Phantom Perceptions
by StarWarrior72
Summary: Phantom Pains from another perspective...
1. Chapter 1

_I can't believe this is happening to me. Father promised. He told me I meant everything to him, that he loved me. If that was true, who is the little boy he's carrying through the jail? He looks and sounds a lot like a clone of me._

_If I'm so important to him, why did he leave me here and clone me? How could he leave me here and just make a new son? What did I do wrong? Can I fix it? Would he even care?_

_When I was little, I knew that my daddy would come back. I knew that I had to be ready to make him proud when he got back, so I made sure to get good grades, and do my best. _

_When I understood that he wouldn't come back, that I'd have to wait until I died to see him, I knew that I should make sure that I had interesting things to tell him. If interesting meant stupid, then stupid it was._

_When I learned that my father had been a Jedi and that Vader had killed him, I knew that I had to become a Jedi to fix what had gone wrong with the galaxy and avenge my father's death._

_When I found out that Vader was my father, I knew that I had to fix what he'd done to the galaxy. I knew that maybe, if I was lucky, my father would turn back to the light side. I knew that I had a chance._

_When my father told me that he loved me, that he had space for me when my sentence was over, I knew that I just had to survive. Survive, and I would get a father, but if I died, he promised me that I would have the best of mothers._

_Now that Father has a new son, I don't know. For the first time in my life, I don't know what to do. Maybe, at this point, I should just give up fighting. Give up and die. Have a mother, and wait for my father. It would be easiest._

They'd come into hearing range by now. The boy was staring at me, and I could hear him whisper in Father's ear, but I couldn't make out the words.

Father didn't react at all, and I heard the boy say a bit louder, "Daddy, that guy over there's Force sensitive."

I slumped. He knew. I felt his Force sensitivity when our eyes met, but I hoped he wouldn't notice. Or that he wouldn't understand. But I guess he did. I can only think of two reasons he would tell Father. One, Father's looking for an apprentice. Two, they'd been sent here to kill all the Force sensitive prisoners. I'm not sure what would be worse.

Father still wasn't reacting at all.

"Daddy, that guy over there's Force sensitive and you said you needed to train another apprentice!" The little boy shouted in Father's ear. Father turned to look at me.

I was fighting tears now. I just couldn't help it. Now I would find out if I meant anything to my father. I was terrified. I was in so much pain I really didn't trust myself to respond correctly. If Father had asked me to become a Sith Lord then, I might have agreed.

He didn't. Thankfully. But his response was probably more painful.

"Not him, Luke." Father turned back around.

He called the boy Luke. That's my name. He gave away everything. He gave away everything special about me. He gave everything away, from my genetic structure to my name. Father gave my identity to the clone. It's almost like he thought I was done with it.

Does he think that having a prisoner number is the same as having a name? Does he think that commands, and being forced to obey, have forced _me_ away? Does he think I'm just an empty shell? I want to scream at him. I want to tell him that if he believes that, he's wrong. They can try to destroy me, but I won't let them win.

The only person who can destroy my spirit is my father. I just hope he doesn't want to.

While I thought these things, Father and the child argued gently about whether or not I should be Father's next apprentice. I just heard something about that I was a Jedi and that I would never agree to be a Sith.

When I came back to the real world, the little clone was squirming in Father's arms. I wanted to scream at him to stay there, to stay close to Father, to not give him the chance to leave his child again. I wanted the clone to be happy, at least.

I didn't scream to either of them, I held it back. The child crawled out of Father's arms and came over to me. He looked down at me and seemed to decide that he wanted to be on eye level with me. He sat down and looked at my face.

I felt like a bug under a microscope, lying prone on the floor, absently praying to anything and everything that he wouldn't recognise me.

Then the little one spoke, "Are you okay?"

Father hasn't allowed his men to feed me or give me water. Or maybe it's orders from the Emperor. Either way, my throat wasn't ready to speak. So I just shook my head.

"You're gonna be okay, though, right?" The little one looked at me and tilted his head, the way Father used to. Before he was healed. I'll never forget the day he came to my cell without his mask on. He was happier than I've ever seen him. He held me, and comforted me.

I shook my head, wishing I could explain it.

He turned to look over his shoulder and called to Father, "Daddy, why won't he talk to me?"

Father came over to my cell and pulled a stun stick off his belt. I shrank away. Father growled at me, "Why won't you talk to my son, Rebel?"

Little one pushed the stun stick away, "Don't hurt him! He's probably just scared!" Then he turned to me, "Are you scared?"

I decided there was no point lying to him and nodded.

"Are you scared of my daddy?" He asked. He's so innocent. Is this how I appear to people? They accuse me of being naïve, but I'm not this bad, am I?

I nodded again.

"Are you scared of me?"

I'm not sure. I really don't know. I don't find the personality frightening, but in the same way that one doesn't find a time bomb that isn't set frightening. I knew that with one tiny bump, I might make him explode, and just like the chain reaction of one atom exploding and detonating another atom and so on in a bomb, it would make our father explode too. Something told me that he loved this new son in a way he had never loved me.

I shrugged.

The boy reached out and touched my cheek. I don't know what he was trying to do. Then he moved away and looked at the blood that had come off my face and onto his hand. He looked at me for a few more moments, then bent over and kissed me.

I tilted my head, realizing as I did it that I was communicating largely in the same way Chewie and I do.

"Daddy always does that when I cry," he said seriously, "I'd hoped it would make you feel better. Is it all better now?"

I nodded and tried to croak out a yes. I failed miserably. I don't think I made any sound at all. If I did, it probably wasn't very understandable.

"Are you still scared of me?" The boy asked.

I wanted to laugh at the simplicity of a question that can be divided into yes and no. The matter was so much more confusing than that. Instead I smiled and shook my head. No, I wasn't scared of him.

He smiled too, then asked, "Why won't you talk to me?"

It was the first question that required an answer other than yes or no. I tried to speak, to tell him that it was hard for me, but instead I just ended up choking on bile. I managed to cough it out, and some blood came up too. Wonderful, internal bleeding, what fun.

The boy tried to move it away from my mouth, but I pulled away and Father held him back. I swiped it away with my sleeve and managed to moan, "Because when I try to talk that happens, and I'm hard to hear. It hurts too."

Then I started coughing again. Then dry heaving. Luckily, the boy moved. I don't think he understood what was happening to my system at that point, though.

As I curled into a ball and continued dry heaving, Father tried to pick up the little one. He wrapped his arms around one of the bars of the cell and refused to be pulled away.

Father put him back down. "Luke, I have to continue the inspection. I will come back for you when I have finished." He was speaking to the little boy. I wish he was speaking to me.

The child turned to Father, who was already leaving, and said, "Can you let me into his cell? I'd be safer in there."

Father turned and looked questioningly at him, "Whatever makes you think you would be safer locked in a cell with a rebel?"

The little one looked up at him, and I have the strangest feeling that there was some puppy-dog eyes going on. I can't believe Father lets him get away with that! I couldn't even get away with… with being me, but this one, he can do whatever he wants!

"No one could take me and he doesn't have any weapons." He said.

I'm being stupid, being mad at this child. He didn't do anything wrong. I think I'm really just mad at the galaxy, not the boy, not my father, maybe the Emperor. But not the boy.

Father looked past the boy at me. I smiled at him as a non-verbal way of saying that I didn't mind, and he turned back to the boy.

"I suppose. If he does anything, just scream and someone will help you."

Hidden behind the boy's back, I rolled my eyes. The boy bobbed his head, and Father let him in. I tried to sit up, but I wasn't strong enough. Father noticed and came over to me. He grabbed me under my arms and dragged me across the cell to lean me on the wall.

The little boy walked over to me and I tried to pick him up to put him on my lap. Ha, why I thought I could pick up a five year old when I couldn't even sit up, I don't know. He knew what I was trying to do, though, and crawled onto my lap.

Father was about to leave, but he glanced back at us. I smiled at him again, wanting to show that we would be okay and wishing I could say it. He pulled a flask off his belt.

"Here, drink this so you can talk properly. Luke, if he starts coughing, get out of the way."

I nodded, grateful. I hadn't had that much to drink if you added together all I've had this past week. I think I saw Father's expression become guilty for a moment before he turned away, but the boy was too busy nodding to notice.

Then Father was gone, leaving me with the little one. I tried to open the flask he'd given me, but I couldn't close my fingers around the lid properly. The little boy took it and opened it for me. Then he watched me drink some of it.

Force, it felt so good to get some water. I needed it so badly. I could feel myself crying in pure relief and I was surprised the boy's next question wasn't about that.

"What's your name?" He asked.

I paused. I didn't really know how to respond. Clearly, Father had given up on me and taken in this little one. Telling him that he was just a clone (which might be incorrect, and would definitely hurt him) would only make matters worse.

I chose the second thing I thought of, Cliegg Darklighter.

He bounced on my lap, "Really? My name is Luke Skywalker!"

I flinched. Father let him be Luke Skywalker, like I thought. He was also driving a piece of shrapnel deeper into my thigh. Then he stopped bouncing, and looked at me in concern.

I gave him what must be the most fake smile in the galaxy, but he bought it. Then he went right ahead with his interrogation. Maybe that should feel like an exaggeration after the real interrogations I've been through, but it doesn't. This one was one of the most painful.

"Why are you here?"

That was a complicated question. I don't know the full answer myself. A couple of months ago, my father caught me. He took Leia and Han hostage. He swore that they would be tortured unless I came to him. He promised me everything, everything I ever wanted. He said they could go free. He said that I could stay with him. He promised to let my friends be safe. He said he wouldn't even make me train as a Sith.

I went. What else could I do? He let them go, and on the ride to Coruscant, he treated me like he would keep his promises. When we arrived, he said that he had to inform his master that I was with him. He came back different.

When I asked him what was wrong, he just turned away and told me not to worry, that he would work this out. Then the stormtroopers came for me. He's come to me once since then, when he was healed. He said he owed it to me. Because it was thanks to me that he had been healed. I hadn't seen him since then. Until today. And he has someone new. He's left me behind.

I couldn't tell the boy that, though, so I went with the shortest answer, "I disobeyed the Emperor and tried to learn to be a Jedi. Like your daddy told you."

"Why doesn't the Emperor want people to learn to be Jedi? It seems silly." The little boy looked up at me in confusion.

I stared down at him. Father clearly wasn't enforcing the same messages about the Jedi with this boy as he had tried to with me. "He feels that they would be a threat to his Empire."

"Why, though? I mean, the Empire is the Old Republic called somethin' different, and they used to protect the Old Republic, didn't they? Why wouldn't they protect the Empire too?"

It was a fairly good question. I had never thought about it that way. "The Emperor had your daddy hunt down and kill all the Jedi he could find. He thought they were attempting a coup d'état."

"What's that?"

"A coup d'état is a movement when the people rise up and overthrow a tyrant or leader. Basically, he thought they were plotting against him, so he killed thousands."

"Oh. Why did he think they were plotting against him?"

This boy asks the most confusing questions! Well, actually, this one just doesn't have an answer.

"That I wouldn't know. I wish I did," I sighed. After all that killing, the Emperor still didn't feel he'd caused enough damage. No, he had to go ahead and destroy my family too. It's just not fair. It's not.

The little one snuggled me. I hope he doesn't catch anything from me. This place isn't exactly a healthy place.

As if he'd read my mind, he asked, "Are you okay?"

"No. Not really, no," _Not even close, kiddo. _I thought sarcastically.

"What happened? Why are you breathing so fast?"

_Because our daddy doesn`t care enough about me to try to care for me, that`s why. But I can`t tell you that._ "This isn't a very good place to be healthy. I just got sick."

"That means you'll get better then, right?" He asked hopefully.

I decided to tell him the truth. "I'm not sure. If someone cared enough to give me a chance I might get better. If I stay here, I won't."

It was true. I won`t get better here, but if Father cared… if he came back for me, I could get better. If he wanted me to, I could fend off the worst poison they've discovered, his affection is all I want. I know that if he changed his mind he could fix everything for me.

"My daddy could help you. He owns the prison. You could come to be with us. You could be safe and you could get better." The little boy pulled on my sleeve.

I wish I could go with him. I wonder if Father would listen to him if he asked for that. I can't bear to know the answer. So I smile at the boy and beg him not to. In the only way I can think of that's not obvious, self-deprecation.

"I don't think your daddy would be too interested in taking me in. Thank you, though." Saying those words, telling someone not to bother helping, saying that it's hopeless, breaks my heart.

"But I want you to be happy! I want you to be safe too!"

_And I want to be safe and happy, believe me. But asking our father has at least as much potential to hurt as it does to help._

"Little guy, you can't protect everybody. If you want me to be happy, tell me about living with your daddy."

That would help, at least a little bit. I would get a chance to know what it would be like to be loved. It would hurt, but it would give me something to imagine to distract myself with.

"Why would that make you happy?"

"Because I never had my own parents. I just want to know what it's like to have a father."_ And who better to tell me that the boy he's treating as his son._

"Why didn't you know your parents?" Apparently, I can ask questions, but answers are out of the picture.

"I'm not sure. Maybe I did something wrong. Maybe they didn't want a son. Maybe they didn't even know I'd been born. My father, that is. My mother is dead. Tell me about having a father. Please."

At least I think, maybe even hope, that my mother's dead. I hate myself for wanting anyone to be dead, but knowing that I'd been rejected by both parents would be too much. Father promised me that she is dead, and that she'd love me. But he also said he'd never let anything hurt me. That was before he dumped me here to be tortured practically nonstop.

The little one doesn't answer right away, I suppose it's because he just takes Father for granted and never considers that other people have never had the luxury of a parent.

I decided to help him along, "What does he do with you?"

"Well… we play together."

"What do you play?" _How can you take him for granted like this? Has it never occurred to you what other people, namely me, might give to have the opportunities you do?_

"We play with my snake together. He plays starship with me."

"What does he do to play starship?" I have to drag all the information out of him bit by bit, it seems.

"He spins me around and flies me around with the Force."

"Is it fun? Or does it scare you?" I don't know why I asked that. Maybe I was hoping that he would say that it scared him, because it would mean that we were at least a bit different.

"It's really fun! I love doing it!" I just managed to hold back a sigh. It seems he was a perfect copy after all.

"It must be wonderful. What else do you do together?" I felt a tear run down my cheek, luckily he was facing away from me, so he couldn't see it.

"What'd ya mean?" He asked, exasperated.

"Does he read to you? Does he tuck you in at night? Does he make you laugh?" I meant all the things any abandoned child would want to know!

"Yes, yes, and yes."

"What does he read you? Is it interesting?"

"Wait, wait! Too many questions! Too fast!" He covered my mouth with one hand. I nodded, showing that I would speak more slowly. He took his hand away.

"What's your favorite thing to do with him?"

"I like it when he tucks me in and reads to me. Sometimes he makes the stories up. He's really good at telling stories. He tells me about the Jedi sometimes, but don't tell anyone I told you. He says he shouldn't. He also tells me great stories about the rebels, but he said to never tell anyone."

"If he told you not to tell anyone, why are you telling me?" _Trust me, disobeying our father is a bad idea._

"You won't tell. I can tell you won't tell. It's like having you look like it, but it's different too."

"All right. I'm not sure I understand, but all right. Didn't your Daddy use to wear a life support suit?" I was asking simply because I couldn't stand hearing more about Father. And being his son. And having him actually love you.

"Yeah, he did. But he got healed. Now he's totally okay." The boy turned to me and smiled.

I sensed Father coming and looked up, "Look, here comes your daddy now."

The little one gave me another hug and spoke in my ear. "I will make sure Daddy helps you. He'd like you."

When he said that, I couldn't hold the sob back anymore. I tried to swallow it and made a sick sound somewhere between choking and whimpering, "He doesn't want me. Just enjoy having a father and forget you ever met me. Trust me. It's good advice."

I kissed his forehead and let him crawl off my lap.

Father entered my cell and knelt next to the little one, "Hey, Luke. Are you okay? Did he hurt you?"

"No! Of course he didn't!" He laughed and bounced a bit.

"I might have. You are technically the son of the enemy." I nudged him with one foot, telling him that it was a possibility. Some people would have hurt him simply because they were jealous.

He laughed, "You're both silly! Daddy, he's nice. Could he come home with us? I get lonely sometimes when we go to Vjun. You wouldn't need to get a babysitter ever again! It would be easier!" He pulled Father's sleeve.

"No, Luke. I can't. We can't." Suddenly Father sent a crashing wave of guilt through the Force. I couldn't help smiling. I wasn't taking joy from my father's pain, I was just so glad that he really did love me.

"Why not? Please, Daddy! Please!" The little one grabbed me and held on tight, "I'm not coming if we don't bring him!"

I reached out in the Force to Father to ask if he would consider it. His mind was firmly closed, which I took as a no. I tried to pull the little one off. "Go with Daddy. I already told you to forget about me. Just go home with your daddy and be glad you have him. Go on."

Father stared at me. I suppose he was surprised I'd given up so easily. Then he dragged the little one off for me.

I passed back his water bottle, "Thank you. I really appreciate it."

I felt my heart twist as Father took it. He had the little one's head pointed over his shoulder, so the boy didn't see our hands brush. Just for a second, he wrapped his fingers around my hand and gave a gentle squeeze. Enough that it didn't hurt my cracked wrist, but enough that I knew that he'd done it one purpose. Then he took the empty flask from my hand and turned.

As Father walked away, leaving me alone again, the little one smiled at me and waved goodbye. I waved back, but as soon as he was out of sight, I lay on the floor and let myself cry.


	2. Chapter 2

I cried for hours that night, using up most of the water Father had given me and thoroughly agitating my captors. Until, finally, one of them came into my cell with a near-murderous expression on his face.

He took a knife out of a small sheath on his belt and grabbed my right arm. I wasn't frightened; he wasn't allowed to do anything.

He pressed the knife slowly into my skin so it bled a bit.

I grimaced and asked, "You're not supposed to do that, are you?"

He laughed coldly, "I can do whatever I want to you. The Emperor felt you reach out to your father, and he gave me permission to do anything to you, except kill you."

Then I was scared. I whimpered and tried to pull away, feeling pathetic.

He laughed, "Not so brave now, are you? Stupid Jedi."

The knife cut farther into my arm. Deeper and deeper until I couldn't see it anymore. I was having something of a delayed reaction and staring at the blood oozing out.

Then he yanked the knife to one side and the pain hit me. I heard myself scream. It was still surreal. But now it hurt like crazy. I heard my screams getting louder and louder, I was aware of the man's hideous sadistic laughter.

He held me there, cutting my arm apart for hours. After just a few minutes he had to give me an adrenaline shot to keep me conscious.

When he was done, I could barely recognise my arm as an arm.

"Bend your fingers, boy." He commanded me.

I tried. I managed a pathetic little twitching. He laughed at me.

He drove the knife back into my arm and cleaved it open. Then he stood up, leaving the knife in.

"Don't move." He snapped. Like I would risk moving and cutting my arm open farther.

A moment later he was back with a cup full of steaming liquid. He pulled my wound open wider, and poured in some of the liquid.

I screamed. It was boiling.

He lazily pulled the knife back out of my arm, as slowly as he could. I couldn't stop screaming.

"How do you like that, boy? Do you want it to happen again?"

I whimpered and shook my head.

"That's too bad, isn't it?" He put the knife back into my arm and pulled my skin aside. He poured more of the liquid over it.

I managed to stop screaming after a few minutes, just long enough to ask, "What _is_ that stuff?"

"Boiling citric acid. Don't you wish you hadn't cried so hard? Driving us crazy won't shorten your sentence, boy." With that, he forced me to open my mouth and poured some of the hot, but no longer boiling, acid down my raw throat.

I fell away from his hands, screaming. I landed on my stomach and started trying to cough the stuff back out. It was hopeless.

The man kicked my back and left my cell.

I lay on the floor, crying softly and hoping they couldn't hear me.

I tried again to close my hand, but this time I couldn't even manage the pathetic twitches.

Finally, the tears gave way to coughing, then vomiting. That lost me the last of my water, but it removed the citric acid too.

I looked at my arm. The best way I can think of to describe it is ribbons. My arm looked like ribbons. Ribbons of skin and muscle. Looking at it was almost worse that feeling it.

I closed my eyes and tried to ignore the pain. I took a deep, unsteady breath and imagined living with my father.

Lying in my cell, I could make myself believe that I was in his arms. I could feel one hand in my hair, one on my back, carefully steadying me. I could hear his heartbeat as I clung to my imaginary father for comfort.

His voice was gentle. He gave me all the comfort I needed so badly. He called me Luke, and promised that no one could ever replace me.

I knew it was all my imagination, but I clung to that promise.

I felt warm and safe in my daydream. Father was protecting me and hiding me in his arms. Each time I thought the pain of the real world would destroy my comforting illusion, I would clutch tighter to my imaginary father and he would hide me from it.

I could feel him smiling down at me and looked up. His kind gentle voice wasn't saying anything, just being there, a lifeline, but his eyes spoke into my heart. _"That's it. Hold on tight now, Luke. Don't be frightened. Don't give in."_

For a moment I was frightened that I had reached out in the Force for my father, but using the Force had been harder for me as they had drained more and more of my blood. I couldn't possibly do it without meaning to.

I decided to see if I could still do it at all after losing all the blood that was seeping out of my arm and staining the duracrete floor. I reached out. Not to do something fancy, just to brush my hair out of my eyes.

Nothing came. I was too weak even to do something that simple. That easy. Thinking that word, I wondered absently if I would be able to tap the Dark Side. I didn't want to try. That would mean that the Emperor had won.

I closed my eyes again and tried to return to my imaginary father. For a few moments, nothing happened and I was afraid I'd lost him forever, but then he was there again, arms around me.

"_Why are they doing this to me?" _ I asked him.

He just shook his head, and pulled me closer. I didn't resist. If my imagination wouldn't answer that question, it meant that I didn't want an answer.

I can fall asleep in my imagination, and I did. I fell asleep still half believing that I was in my father's arms.


	3. Chapter 3

The next day, I managed to lie low and only endure basic torture. The day after that, Father brought the little one to my cell. I was curled up with my torn arm to the wall. When I saw him coming, I tried to hide it more.

Father would be humiliated if he saw that part of me now, I'm sure of it. One thing his beliefs won't tell him to hate me for is my physical appearance, so I like to think that he loves me, if only because of the way I look. If he saw my arm I would lose even that comforting thought.

When I tried to hide my arm, I saw the little one's eyes and made myself smile for him. He smiled too and scrambled out of Father's arms.

Father turned and left the cell, leaving us alone. I guess it's a good sign he trusts me with his beloved little clone.

"Hello, Cliegg. Are you okay?" The little boy lay down on his belly and looked into my eyes.

I just shook my head. My throat was back to not working.

"Are you thirsty?" He held out a little bottle of water.

I had to cough a couple of times before I could ask, "Would you open it, please?"

He opened the bottle and passed it to me. I took it in my left hand so he didn't have to see my wounds.

"It'll be easier if you use your other hand," he observed.

I shook my head. I wasn't going to do that. He didn't need to see that. He helped me guide the water to my mouth and I took a couple of sips, then put it down on the floor and tried to prop myself against the wall. I failed utterly, so we both stayed lying on the ground.

"Are you better now?" He asked hopefully.

"If you mean am I better than I was last time you were here, then, no. If you mean am I better than before you gave me the water, then, yes."

I don't think he understood me, because his response was, "Do you want something to eat?" He held out a nutrition bar.

"Yes, please," I took the bar from his hand and tore it open with my teeth. He watched me as I ate it.

"Why aren't you using your other hand?" He asked curiously.

I tried harder to hide my other arm, "No reason."

"That's not true. Show me your arm." He held one hand out like a teacher confiscating something from a student.

"You don't want to see it, Luke." The name felt sour to me. I hate the idea of someone else being my father's Luke Skywalker.

"Yes I do. Give me your arm." He said stubbornly.

I moved my arm into view before he decided to grab it. He stared at it in horrified fascination, and then touched it as gently as he could. I gritted my teeth and managed not to scream.

"Why?" His voice was scared. Force, just looking at me scared him.

Telling him it was his fault for being taken in by my father wouldn't do any good, so I lied. "Because I disobeyed the Emperor. Please don't touch it again."

He nodded slightly. Then he looked back into the little box. Much to my surprise, he pulled out a long bandage, "Would you like me to make it better?" he asked.

I nodded and he unrolled the bandage. He started to try to wrap it around my arm, but his clumsy five-year-old fingers kept slipping into my arm. I gasped repeatedly, wishing that I could do it, but you really need two hands to apply one of those bandages.

I was very grateful when Father ran into my cell and grabbed the bandage from the little one's hand. "Luke! What…? Give me that."

I'd like to believe that he was going to ask me what had happened to me, but he didn't continue.

"Luke, come watch. I'll show you how to do it." Father unwound the little one's messy work. Then he slowly started to wrap my arm in the bandage.

When he was finished, he stood and left the cell.

"Where are you going?" asked the little one.

"I'm going to continue the inspection. Where else would I be going?" he asked.

"Well, I thought you said you'd come back when it was time to go."

"I came back when I heard your friend screaming. Force, Luke. You should have waited and let me do it."

"How could you have heard him? You were way that way!" The boy pointed down a hall.

"I heard him. I have to continue the inspection now, if you'll excuse me." Father said sharply. Then he left the cell.

After a few moments, the little one turned to me. "How did he know?"

"Force sensitives have better hearing than most people."

"But he was way, _way_ that way!" The boy waved one arm energetically in the direction he had pointed.

"He probably felt my pain. He is fairly attuned to my Force signature. It comes of having chased and hunted me for years." Okay, so maybe I exaggerated a bit there, but it certainly felt that way to me.

"He said you were his apprentice."

"I was never his apprentice. He wanted me to be. That was why he was chasing me."

"But he said…" he trailed off.

"I was never his apprentice." I couldn't have been. I wouldn't allow it. No matter how much I wanted my father.

"Okay… then why did he tell me that you were?" the boy asked me.

"He wanted me to be his apprentice. He might have just thought that you wouldn't understand that."

"Daddy never lies to me because he thinks I wouldn't understand the truth! He tells me complicated stuff all the time! He would have told me!"

"Well, then, I have no idea. I wouldn't understand the way parents interact with their children under normal circumstances." My voice sounded far angrier than I'm used to.

"Do you want your parents?" He asked sympathetically.

"Yes. I miss them. Even though I never knew them, I miss them. I wish they had raised me. I wish that when I get out of jail they'd be waiting for me." Waiting for my body, because that's all that's coming out. At this point, just knowing that I would be given a proper burial would make me feel much better.

He looked up at me. "I wish your parents were keeping you safe too. I wish you were happy." He nestled close against my side and I put my good arm around him.

He gave a huge yawn and I smiled at him, "Do you need some sleep, Luke?"

"Yeah, I didn't really sleep much last night." Another huge yawn.

"Go to sleep then. I won't hurt you. Sleep," I brushed his hair gently through my fingers.

"Don't you want to talk?"

I laughed and it tore at my dry throat. "I don't think I'll gain a lot from a conversation with you when you're half asleep."

"Okay."

I kissed his forehead and watched him fall asleep.

We lay side by side on the floor for about half an hour before my father arrived to take the little one and go home.

"Luke, it's time to go home." I looked up as he entered the cell.

When the little one didn't stir, Father looked at me in concern, "What happened?"

"Nothing. He just went to sleep." I tried to sit up so I could see my father properly. I still wasn't strong enough, even after the nutrition bar and the water.

He came over to me and helped me up. I leaned on him heavily. Then he spoke, so quietly I thought at first that I'd imagined it.

"Poor little Luke. What have they done to you?"

"What they were ordered to do. Except one of them, who hates me." I told him quietly.

"Is he the one who… shredded your arm?"

I nodded and Father held me close for a moment. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm working on getting you out of here, I promise."

"I thought he was a replacement." I said, gesturing to the little one, who was still asleep and now drooling slightly.

"No. Never. I could never replace you." Father said. If that's true, I don't know how he plans to explain away the little one. But it doesn't matter for now. He's holding me. That's what's important.

"How much sleep are you getting, Luke?" Father asked.

"Not enough. Not nearly enough."

"I'm not surprised. Your little brother has been sleeping a lot. I think he may have accidentally opened himself to your pain, your hunger, and your sleep deprivation."

I looked at the young boy. Father considered him my brother, not my replacement, and he was taking my pain for me. I had been so immature to ever blame him for any of this. "Will he be all right?"

"I hope so. I think we can only wait and see."

"Right." I nodded.

Father laid me back on the ground and moved to pick the little one up. As he left this time, though, he turned back to wave goodbye. I waved back and curled up to sleep, feeling much better.


	4. Chapter 4

I managed to sleep for a couple of hours before one of the men at the facility woke me by dipping my wounded arm in a bucket of acid, thankfully not heated this time.

The torture went on for hours before I was allowed a few more hours of sleep. Then torture, then sleep, then torture.

As I was being dragged back from a torture session, I saw my father. I called out to him.

"Father! Father, please!"

He spun to see me. The trooper who was dragging me by my bad arm dropped me and took out a stun stick. He jabbed my forehead and it scraped across, burning me and cutting deep.

"Shut up, stupid!"

I whimpered.

Father ran towards us as the trooper started to drive his boot into my ribs again and again. Just before he arrived, I felt one of my ribs break. I howled and my father threw the trooper away from me with the Force. Then he knelt next to me and brushed away my tears.

"Luke, what happened? Why was he doing that?"

I just howled wordlessly again. Father picked me up gently and cradled me against himself.

"Luke, Luke, it's okay. It's all right. What did he do to you?" Father ran his hands through my hair and cradled me close. I managed to scale down to small whimpers.

"I-I think he broke my one of my ribs."

"Oh, Luke, I'm sorry. Which one?" Father held me out so that he could see my ribs.

I reached up and started prodding around the general area the agony originated from. It made sense that if I could tolerate the pain of moving the rib a bit it wasn't broken. Finally one of them made me gasp in pain.

"That one?" Father asked gently.

I nodded, tears slipping through my tightly closed eye lids.

"It's all right, Luke you can cry. I won't hold it against you."

I wrapped my arms around Father's neck, making the wounded one smart sharply. Then I buried my nose against his neck and started to cry.

He rubbed my back carefully as he stood up and started to walk. I just clung to him and waited.

Finally, his hands carefully pried mine away from his neck. I let him. He put me down in the co-pilot's chair of a shuttle and I immediately slid down onto the floor. He carefully gathered me up again and attached the crash webbing around me to hold me up. It was rather tight around my broken rib, but I would rather be somewhat uncomfortable and near my father than away from him.

He smiled at me and sat in the pilot's chair. Then he started the engines and we flew away from the jail. I was so relieved that I cried. As soon as we were safely in hyperspace, Father unstrapped me and held me on his lap.

"It's okay, Luke. It's all right, I promise. We're going home now. You're going to be home soon."

I nodded. I couldn't stop crying and I was sniffling, so there was no chance of getting words through. Thankfully, Father didn't mind. He rocked me like a baby and let me cling to him and cry in his hair.

"I suppose it would make sense to get you to a doctor before taking you home, wouldn't it."

I nodded. Medical care sounded like a good idea.

Father brought the ship out of hyperspace and turned us around to head to a medical facility. He didn't bother to put me back in my seat, just held me.

As we arrived, he lowered the ship carefully and stood up. He carried me down the ramp and into the building.

"Hello, Sir. Please follow me." I heard. I assume it was a medic.

Father followed the voice. I stared over his shoulder at receding hallways for several minutes before he put me on a bed.

I didn't know what to expect, really. The first thing I noticed was that Father had sat down beside me and put an arm around me without second thought. The second was that the medic wasn't human.

The medic was still addressing my father as he asked, "What treatment does the boy require?"

Father turned to me, "Luke? I don't have the answer to that question."

It had been a long time since anyone had asked me what I wanted, or needed, and meant it. I didn't know how to react, so I shrank against my father and trusted him to take his best guess.

"Sorry, my son has been in prison for over a month. He's not used to being spoken to like this." Father apologised to the medic. "One of his ribs is broken, and someone chopped his arm up, obviously. Help me out here, Luke, what else have they done to you."

"They put citric acid on my arm, my wrist is cracked and there's shrapnel driven into me all over." I told Father quietly. "Other than that they only used torture droids. And they don't cause permanent damage."

Father turned to the medic and repeated what I'd told him. I felt silly for being scared to tell them what was wrong. It was just that the men at the facility would have laughed and tortured me even more cruelly if they'd heard that.

"In that case, he should be treated with bacta. His wounds will also need to be washed. Bring him to the sink, please."

Father gathered me up and carried me over to the sink in one corner of the room.

The medic turned on the water and tested it for me. Father took my hand and carefully held it under the slowly trickling tap. I didn't flinch. For some reason it didn't hurt. Father noticed.

"Luke? Doesn't that hurt?"

"I don't feel anything," I said, honestly.

The medic reached out and took my arm. He prodded at it repeatedly, asking me if it hurt. It didn't. Not even when he touched the sides in places the wounds went down to the bone.

"Gangrene. As I thought," the medic said, softly.

"What?" I whimpered. That wasn't fair. After everything I'd been through, going back to Father was supposed to fix everything, but it couldn't fix that. Gangrene has to be amputated.

"It's all right, Luke. We can heal it." Father held me close.

"What do you mean? Gangrene doesn't have a treatment. They have to amputate." I looked up at him, scared out of my wits and crying.

"It does have a treatment, it's just top secret. The Empire only allows a few people to know it. I'm one of them. We can fix you up, all right?" He kissed my forehead.

"Really?"

"Yes." Father passed a data card to the medic, "This details treatment. Please use it to heal my son."

The medic nodded, "It will take a few moments, Sir. Let your son rest."

Father nodded and continued cleaning my wound, explaining, "The treatment requires the wound to be clean other that the infection itself."

The medic left to confer with his higher ups, or whatever had to be done. Father continued washing, oblivious to the gore. When my arm was clean, he carried me back to the bed.

He sat beside me while we waited for the medic. After a few moments, he started searching my arms and legs for shrapnel, pulling out every piece he found. Then he helped me take my shirt off and searched my torso.

"How did this happen to you, Luke?"

I winced as he pulled a piece out from near the same area as my broken rib. "They were only supposed to torture me with droids. But the one who hated me, he thought that it would be a great idea to have me caught in an industrial accident. They forced me to do slave labour, and then blew up one of the crates they were making me carry. It was full of metal shards."

Father made a small sound of sympathy.

"Where is the little one, Father?" I asked, in an effort to change the subject.

"Is that what you call him?"

"Yes. I don't like the idea of you having another son you think of as Luke Skywalker." I nodded.

"He's at home. As I thought, he opened himself to your pain. I drugged him so that he wouldn't feel it. He won't wake up for a few hours, so we have time to get you treated."

I nodded. That was good, then.

A few moments later, the medic was back.

"Follow me, please. The treatment is ready."

Father picked me up and followed the medic out of the room. He carried me through more halls and into a room with a bacta tank in it.

"Bacta? Is it that simple? I didn't know bacta could do that." I whispered in his ear.

"It's not just bacta, Luke. They have to add some other things too. Let's get you in there, okay?"

I groaned. "I hate bacta. It smells funny, and I always get it in my mouth."

Father laughed lightly, "Would you like to be sedated, then?" I think he was half joking.

"Yes. Definitely," I was being serious.

"All right then, if that's what you want." The medic passed him a needle and he carefully put it under my skin.

As he pulled the needle out, the world went dark.


	5. Chapter 5

"Good morning, Luke." Father smiled at me.

"Was I really out of it for that long?" I asked.

"No, it just seemed like the right way to greet you as you woke up. We just need to give you some more blood, and maybe an IV to take for the rest of the trip, all right?"

"All right," I wasn't about to argue about medical treatment.

Father carried me back to the room he had washed my wound in. At least I think it was the same room, hospital rooms tend to be fairly similar.

A new medic, this one human, brought a small tray with an array of injections. I turned away. Many thanks to my 'friends' on Tatooine, I'm more than a little uncomfortable with needles.

"Are you all right, Luke?" Father asked.

"I'll be fine. I just don't like needles." I told him.

"All right, will you be okay with me giving them to you then? You need more blood after all they took."

I nodded, but firmly looked away. I did not want to see this. I felt the tiny prick of a needle, and then felt Father take it back out. He must have done that twenty times before he stopped.

"I'm going to give you an IV, okay? I need your other arm so that I can attach it in your wrist."

He had been injecting the needles all in my right shoulder, but I guess my lower arm was still too fragile from the shredding. I turned so that he could inject my left arm.

I heard him taping the bag of IV fluids to my upper arm, and then felt him slide the needle into my wrist. After a few moments, he spoke again.

"There you go, Luke. All done. I just need to re-bandage your arm. We wouldn't want it getting torn up again."

I opened my eyes and turned to look at him. He took a bandage the medic passed him and started wrapping it around my arm. After just a few layers, I couldn't move my arm anymore. I suppose Father had experience with first aid.

He smiled reassuringly and picked me up, thanking the medic as he did so. He supported me with one arm and paid for my treatment, then carried me back through the hospital and onto the ship.

As he put me down in the co-pilot's chair, he froze momentarily.

"Father? Are you all right?" I asked.

He stood still for a few more moments before shaking his head slightly, as if to clear it, "Yeah, I'm fine, Luke. Your brother just woke up and he wanted to know where I was. Should we go home then?"

I nodded and Father carefully strapped me into the chair.

He started the engine and the ship left the ground. I watched as he set course for another system.

"Is that home?" I asked.

"Yes. Listen, when we get home, I'm going to take you to your brother, all right? Don't let him know that you're with me until we're in the room, okay? I want to surprise him."

I laughed, which tore at everything painfully, but felt good too. It felt like so long since I'd last laughed. "Okay. If that's what you want."

As the ship jumped to hyperspace, I watched the stars turn into streaks. It was really quite mesmerising. The next thing I knew, Father was carefully shaking me awake.

"Wake up, Luke. We're home."

Father picked me up like a baby, cradled in his arms. I felt too small, curled up like that, but it didn't really matter.

"Are you all right, Luke? You seem very weak." Father cradled me closer.

"I am weak. You know that." I rested my head in the crook of his arm and closed my eyes. I was exhausted.

"I understand. Sleep if you need to." Father bent and kissed my forehead.

I relaxed a bit and I felt Father start to walk. The next thing I knew I was on the floor, crying.

"Luke! Are you all right? Oh, Force, I didn't mean to…" Father sounded horrified.

I opened my eyes, trying to see him, but the world stayed as dark as though I hadn't.

"Father? What happened? Why can't I see?"

I felt his arms around me, rocking me carefully. "I'm sorry, Luke. I'm used to carrying your brother. When you relaxed, you slipped a little bit. I accidently hit your head on a bulkhead. If you can't see, I probably gave you a concussion… I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to."

I tasted blood in my mouth. "Euh, just after I got out of a bacta tank. Typical."

I could feel Father smiling a bit, and feeling guilty for it. "It cut your forehead again." He kissed me again. "You'll be okay. I promise."

"I know. Just promise you won't put me in another bacta tank." I smiled up at him. At least I think I was looking at him, I still couldn't see.

"I promise. Let's get you up to your brother now."

I nodded, and Father picked me up. I put my arms around his neck, but after a short while, I was too weak to keep holding on and slid back down into his arms, trusting him not to make the same mistake again. As I did so, he carefully gathered me closer to himself.

I closed my eyes and waited. I felt Father carrying me up a set of stairs, and then I heard a door open. I opened my eyes and was glad to discover that I could see again.

I didn't even notice that my eyes had closed themselves again until I heard the little one ask, "Will he be okay?"

"He will be." I felt father sitting down and resting my head on his shoulder as he spoke.

I fought to open my eyes again. Seeing the little one's worried, almost frightened expression, I decided that I would have to get used to calling him by my name.

"Luke?" After speaking so much with Father, and then crying, my voice was ravaged. This gave way to another bout of coughing like mad, then miserably almost coughing my insides out.

Father held me, brushed some blood I'd coughed up away, and spoke to me, gently, "You're going to be all right, I promise. Don't give up."

Deep down, I was glad he hadn't bothered to use my fake name. I would have preferred it if he had called me Luke, but somehow this made me feel that he might start using my name again.

I nodded, to tell him that I wasn't _trying_ to cough up any organs. Then I felt too weak to move much more, I was exhausted.

When I fell still, Father laid me on Little One's bed beside him. It was all I could do to keep my eyes open. The poor little guy was looking at me worriedly.

I forced myself to smile, "I'll be okay, Luke."

"Promise?"

Father saved me the necessity of answering, "I promise I won't let anything hurt your friend. Sleep now, both of you. I'll explain everything tomorrow." He gave the little one a quick snuggle, then picked me up.

Then he paused momentarily and asked, "Would you like to kiss him goodnight, Luke?"

The little boy crawled quickly over to me and kissed my cheek. "Goodnight, Cliegg."

Father waited until the little one was back in bed, and then carried me down the hall.

"I don't have a room ready for you, I'm afraid."

I shrugged. I could deal with that.

"I know you're a bit old for snuggling your parents, but if you want to, you can stay with me."

I smiled up at him and managed to croak, "Really?"

"Of course," Father smiled back at me.

Father carried me down the hall and rested me on a bed. "I'll go and get something for you to eat, all right?"

I nodded. He kissed my forehead before leaving the room.

A few minutes later, he was back. He carried a tray with food and water on it on one hand. In his other was a washcloth. He helped me pace myself while I ate.

When I was done, he tucked me in and started washing the blood and grime off my face. Then he sat me against the headboard and helped me eat some more.

After just a few bites, I couldn't take anymore. I told Father by resting my head on his chest and closing my eyes.

I felt him move to put the tray on the floor beside the bed. Then he carefully tucked me back in and crawled into bed beside to me. He wrapped his arms around me and kissed my cheek.

"Goodnight, Luke."

"Goodnight, Father."

I closed my eyes. I did feel immature, snuggled against him like that, but it was incredibly comforting. Father was warm and I had been cold for so long. I didn't mind that he smelled slightly of sweat. It made sense that he would, he had been carrying me all day. Besides, I was filthy, so I was in no position to judge.

For the first time in my life, I fell asleep, safe, in my father's arms.


	6. Chapter 6

I woke up to find my father holding my gently against himself as he sat on a balcony. It was strange that he had brought me out, but not bothered to wake me.

"Father?"

"Good morning, Luke. How do you feel?" he ran his fingers across a scar on my cheek.

"Much better. Why are we out here?" I asked.

"I thought the fresh air might be good for you. Reassuring, I guess. I mean, you've been chained up for over a month, not smelling real, clean air."

"Yeah, thanks for bringing me out. You're right. It is kind of a relief to know that I can get out if I want to."

"Would you like to have a bath?" Father asked, standing up.

"Yes, please."

Father carried me back into the building and into a 'fresher. He ran a bath for me, and then left so I could bathe in private.

I felt ridiculously spoiled as I washed in the warm water.

After a few minutes, there was a tap on the door. "Luke, I have a change of clothes, can I just drop them in?"

"Yes, please." Honestly, I wouldn't have minded that much if he had come right in. He was my father, after all.

He reached through the door and placed a spare shirt and pants on the counter. I finished washing quickly and got out, draining the tub and pulling the clothes on as quickly as possible, so as not to get cold.

Then I returned to the hall to find my father waiting for me. He was sitting against the wall and stood up quickly when I came out.

When he saw me, he laughed. At first, I didn't know what he was laughing about and I was a bit offended. Then I realized that I hadn't dried my hair and it was hanging, soaked around my ears, dripping.

I smiled too, not wanting to hurt myself by laughing again.

"I'll go wake your brother." Father didn't pick me up, and I was kind of glad. It was nice to know that he would hold me if I needed it, but that he also knew that I could support myself. Except that I couldn't support myself, I stumbled.

Father wrapped his arm around me and led me back through his castle to the room we had shared. I sat on the bed and he moved me so I was leaning on the headboard.

Father left to retrieve the little one and they were back soon.

The little one greeted me with the endearingly blunt greeting, "Are you okay?"

"I will be now, I think. Do you feel better?" He finished crawling over to me and I put my newly healed, but still bandaged, arm around him.

"Yeah. All better," he said happily. Then he snuggled against my side.

Father smiled when he saw that we had developed a relationship similar to being brothers. Then he left the room.

I pulled the little one closer and looked down into his eyes. "Thank you, Luke. I owe you everything." There, that didn't hurt as much anymore. I could get used to calling him Luke.

He blushed and smiled shyly. "I didn't want you to get hurt."

"I know." I put my other arm around him and hugged him.

Father came back in with a tray of food to find us, still snuggling. He smiled at us, and I let go of the little one.

He put the tray on the bed and passed each of us a bowl of assorted foods. He kissed the little one, and then ran his hand through my hair.

"Boys, I need to talk to my master about this, okay?"

I felt the little one nodding, his head pressed against me. I was less sure. Father seemed somewhat wary. I nodded hesitantly.

Father stood, started to leave the room, and turned back to us with a smile, "Good. I'll be back as soon as possible. And try not to smother each other with hugs _too_ much."

I was not reassured. I forced myself to stay as calm as possible for the little one, though. As we ate, I kept one arm around him, as if to protect him from whatever was worrying our father.

Father was gone a long time, and I was starting considering using the Force to see if he was all right when he rejoined us.

He pulled the little one out from under my arm and I saw that he was almost asleep. Father kissed his forehead, "Wake up, Kiddo. You can sleep when I've explained all this."

I couldn't help smiling. Father knew how to care for the little boy. That was for sure.

"Luke, when you met Cliegg, you started to be friends pretty fast, right?" Father asked him.

"Yeah."

"And you knew that he was Force sensitive, didn't you?" Father asked kindly.

"Yep, I told you he was Force sensitive!" the little one bounced on Father's lap.

"That's right. You did." Father smiled indulgently. "Well, when you bonded like that, you started to form a Force bond too. Cliegg tried to keep you safe from his pain, which you were opening yourself to, for as long as possible, but at first you started to feel his sleep deprivation. Then, last night, the pain got to be too much for him and you started to feel it. When I asked you if your arm that hurt was the same one I had treated on him, you thought about his pain and opened yourself to it more. Do you follow so far?"

I liked that he made it sound like I loved and protected the little one. At the time, I had really only felt unjustified anger towards him.

"So, when I saw that he had been tortured like that I had a suspicion that you might start feeling his pain. Last night, I just gave you a strong sedative so that you could sleep through the pain while I eliminated it at the source of the problem, Cliegg's pain. Do you still understand?"

"Yeah." The little one nodded.

"That's about it. Now Cliegg's here and I won't have to torture him. My master says that I can't continue to treat him as a second son, but that he can stay here."

Mentally, he sent me._ First son._

I smiled at him.

"What's gonna happen to him, then?" the little one asked.

Father flinched, "I will have a cell built for him. Because my master said that he had to be in a cell. We're not allowed to feed him properly, and his cell can't be furnished in any way. I'm sorry, but at least he won't be tortured."

I felt a lump rise in my throat. _Well, there we go. I've had my one day of happiness, now I can go back to being a prisoner._

"I want him to stay with me! I want him to be happy!" the little one screamed, crawling across the bed to hold onto me.

Father sighed and moved around the bed to put his arms around both of us, "I know you do, Luke."

I felt myself gasp in an effort to hold back tears. I couldn't be strong for myself, but I could be for the little boy in my arms.

"I'll be all right, Luke. Your daddy's right, it's an improvement on where I was. Don't be worried about me. We can talk whenever you want to. It won't be so bad." I was trying to convince myself too.

"But…" I could feel him shaking then, and I was glad I hadn't let myself cry.

"I'll do everything I can to change my master's mind about this, I promise. In the meantime, I'm sorry, but Cliegg will have to stay in a cell." Father got one hand on my back and rubbed gently.

"You're sure you're gonna be okay, right?" The little one asked me, pressing close.

"Of course I'm sure. If you ever worry about me you can just come to my cell and check on me. Okay?" I promised gently.

"I guess…" The boy gave a small sniffle.

"Don't be so sad, Luke. Cliegg can stay with you until we get the cell built." Father said, addressing the little one with the second sentence, but I think the first one was for both of us.

"I guess that's better," his voice was tiny. Poor boy.

"It'll be okay," I told him, returning his snuggle.

Father kissed his forehead, ran his hand through my hair again, and stood. I knew what he was going to do and it tore at me. I just wanted my father to be my daddy, not my captor. But I suppose you can't have everything you want.

In my arms, the little clone shifted a bit. I closed my eyes and held him. It was incredibly comforting, to know that he was with me, and his physically small, but metaphorically large, heart was beating.

Finally, he insisted that I play with him. I did. I had never seen such a vast array of toys in my life! I couldn't help smiling as he trotted right over to some old-fashioned board games.

He dragged one out, and we sat down on the floor to play it.

Crossing my legs and dropping down on the floor was a natural movement for me, but it lit up the little one's eyes.

"Huh?" I asked, confused.

"I like that. You're nice."

"Uh… what do you mean? Did I do something?"

"You sat with your legs crossed. Most grown-ups wanna sit on chairs. They think they're too good to sit on the ground."

"Why waste all that space?" I smiled. That was a pretty good way of determining a person's character, I guess.

"Yeah. I like you. You listen to me and play with me."

"Doesn't your daddy?"

The little one shrugged and started to set out the game pieces, "Daddy's always busy. He's never got time to play with me."

"I'll always have time to play with you. Anytime, just ask."

"Yeah. You're good that way." He smiled at me.

We played for hours. Finally, Father came to get us.

"Come here, Luke. We should get the two of you to bed." Father said. He picked up the little one, put him in bed, and returned for me.

I relaxed in his arms and he kissed my forehead, careful that the little one didn't see.

"Goodnight, Luke." He said over his shoulder to the little one as he turned out the lights.

"Goodnight, Daddy!"

_Somehow I don't think he'll be getting to sleep for a while._ I thought.

As soon as we were out of earshot of the little one's room, Father looked down at me. "What should I do with you, Luke?"

"I wouldn't complain if you forgot about your orders and just let me stay with you. I know you can't, though."

"Ah, as I feared. You never could do as you were told, Lord Vader."

I know that voice. It means pain. I clung to my father, but he was already letting me go. "Don't let go! Please, he'll kill me!"

Father dragged my arms away from his neck. "Let go, Luke."

When I only clung tighter, he shouted, "Let go, you stupid boy!"

I let go and he let me fall to the floor._ This is it, then. Father just gave up on me. All I ever was to him was a babysitter for the boy he actually cares about. He doesn't want me._

I saw the Emperor sneer and curled into a ball, for the most protection I could give myself. It wasn't enough. It never was. The Emperor sent Force lightning at me and I screamed.

_Please don't let the little one hear this! Please! He has to stay here, happy, with Father!_ It was all I could do to keep from crying this aloud.

Lightning everywhere. Pain just as plentiful. I knew that I would never enjoy another lightning storm in my life. There wasn't even a hint of my original thought of lightning, that it was beautiful. It just hurt. It could light fires like the ones that destroyed my life. I was smoking. It was lighting me on fire. I was going to burn like my aunt and uncle had. I wanted them now. I needed them…

I knew vaguely that I had crumpled out of my safety position and I was lying on the floor, screaming.

Then Father's voice cut through the pain, "Stop! You're disturbing my son!"

I knew he was referring to the little one, but it made me feel better anyway.

"You have no say in this." I knew that the Emperor wasn't going to stop for that.

"Look, just let me get him farther away from my baby's room." Father pled. I felt another Force grip take me: Father. Suddenly I was the rope in tug-of-war.

I knew that at that point the little one would be able to hear me screaming. I couldn't stop, though. The Emperor had given up on the lightning, and was dragging on my body through my healed, but still fragile, arm. He could drag me away easily if he wanted to, but he knew how much pain this was causing me.

Finally, Father released me and I fell to the floor, panting from my non-stop screaming. I knew I was crying. Worse, I knew I couldn't stop. The Emperor had also released me, and Father grabbed me again, throwing me away from the little one's room. I flew down the hall, hit a wall and crumpled to the floor.

I wailed helplessly. Why was this happening to me? Hadn't I been through enough? The Emperor sent his terrible lightning after me, and after that burst of pain, Father threw me down the next hall, still avoiding the little one's room. I had a few moments to try to stop crying as they followed me around the bend.

"Please stop!" I cried when the Emperor raised his hands to shoot energy through my body again. Unsurprisingly, he didn't respond. Another wave of pain and lightning overcame me.

"Make it stop!" I wailed. Father also didn't respond. There would be no protection or comfort from him.

Again I was wrenched out of the way of the lightning and thrown down the hall by my father. It hurt. Everything hurt. I wanted it to end. With death, there would be no more pain. No more hurting. No more cold Father, no more cruel Emperor.

Finally, Father threw me into the kitchen, landing me on a still heated element on the stove. I wailed in agony.

The Emperor ran another wave of pain through me. I was thrown off the stove against the wall, and then I fell back on. I wailed again.

Knives started to fly at me from the counter. Father had been making dinner. One knife narrowly missed my ear. Another hit my hand, driving in a bit. I managed to squirm off the element and fell to the floor. It made me an easier target, but at least I wasn't burning anymore.

Father left me to the Emperor. He walked out of the kitchen, back towards the little one's room. Palpatine didn't hesitate to continue to drive the knives into me.

Several minutes and more stabbings than I want to count later, Father rejoined us in the kitchen.

"I hope you have learned better than to think you can have the boy, Lord Vader." The Emperor sneered at Father and left us. I could sense him leaving Father's castle.

Father came over to me and I flinched away.

"Luke, it's okay. He's gone."

"Y-you left me. Why did you leave me?" I sobbed, still dragging myself away from him. I felt betrayed. He hadn't saved me! He had promised his baby, the one he cared about, that he wouldn't let anything hurt me, but he hadn't even tried to save me!

Father reached out and for a moment, I thought he was going to try to comfort me, which would have been terrible, because it would have made me cry. Instead he closed his hand around one of the knives which had lodged itself in my side. He pulled it sharply out. I wailed helplessly again.

Father pulled the remaining knives out of me as gently as he could. When he was done, I was wailing and sobbing inconsolably. He didn't hold me, just dragged me to my feet. He held me up, but did little else as he led me down to a little medcenter in his basement.

He told me to sit on a bench and retrieved a medkit. He didn't even offer me bacta as he started to bind my wounds. I sat still, in one big flinch. Inwardly, I cried. He still didn't love me.

I had hoped it was an act, his cold treatment, to end when the Emperor left. But if it hadn't ended yet, then he probably really meant it.

When he was done binding the worst of my wounds, he got me off the table. Then he led me upstairs and dropped me to fall to the floor. I watched wordlessly as he cleaned my blood off the ground and wall beside the stove. I hadn't known it had splattered like that. It was vile.

He dragged me across the floor to lie still while he started to take down a part of the wall. Hidden behind it was a cell. He had had a cell ready for me. He had anticipated this, but hadn't warned me. I watched for a while before falling into a sort of half-sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

I was woken by the little one calling down the stairs.

"Daddy!"

Father sat back from where he was putting the finishing touches on smoothing out the edges of the wall. "What do you need, Luke? I'm kind of busy!"

I heard the little one coming down the stairs. When he came into the room, the first thing he looked at was the cell Father was just finishing. The second was me, curled on the floor as I was.

"Daddy! Why'd you hurt him?" The boy shot our father a dirty look and came and hugged me.

"It wasn't me, Luke. My master came by to see that I wasn't bonding with him and he tortured Cliegg. I'm sorry, both of you." Father said, turning towards us, and then looking down at his knees.

I suppose it was supposed to mean that he was sorry.

The little one looked down at me again. I felt stupid, crumpled on the floor. Again, the little one felt that he shouldn't be looking down on me and lay beside me. Again, I drew him close.

"Thanks for caring, Luke. It means a lot to me. I love you," I told him quietly. I was grateful that he didn't mention my pain last night. Although why he didn't even seem to remember, I don't know.

"I love you too. You're like my big brother!" he practically screamed from my arms. I hadn't meant Father to know that I'd told him that, but now it was out.

"Thank you, Luke." I was too weak to move much more, I suppose that I must have lost a lot of blood.

The little boy in my arms allowed me to cradle him like I would a teddy bear for a few minutes. Then he hopped to his feet and started trying to drag me up. I humoured him enough so that he could lean me against the wall. When he tried to pull me to my feet, though, I was glad that Father intervened.

"Luke, don't do that. He has to stay here."

"Why? I want him to come play with me!"

"No, Luke. Daddy's not allowed to let me out of the cell if he doesn't know exactly where I am." I honestly couldn't say whether I was calling him 'Daddy' for myself, or for the little one.

The little one released my hand and sat down on the floor beside me. "Why?"

I wanted to know that myself.

"Because Master said so," Father is so articulate when it comes to questions I want answers for.

"Why do you gotta do everything he says?" The little one asked.

"Because I owe him my life. Don't ask about that, Luke." I think that was aimed at both of us. Like I was going to ask him anything after what he'd done, and not done.

"Okay, okay, it just isn't fair." The little one said sulkily. _You know nothing about unfairness. Nothing. Unfair isn't just being left out of the loop, or not getting what you want all the time, it's not having a loop to be left out of, and never getting what you need._

I began to feel worse and worse about these thoughts as the little one stayed with me all morning, ignoring his hunger. He was a sweet little guy, and it was wrong of me to be so resentful.

Finally, Father heard the little one's stomach growling._ If it had been just me hungry, he never would have noticed._

"Luke, why didn't you tell me you were hungry?" he looked at the little one with affectionate disapproval.

"I didn't wanna be a problem. I'm okay," the little one nuzzled me.

"Luke, we've talked about lying. Come on, let's get some food in you." Father said, he put the little one on his feet, and then came towards me. I didn't know whether to be afraid or comforted by this, so I went with the kinder possibility that it had all been an act earlier.

Father helped me to my feet, but I was too weak to walk, so I put my arms around his neck, hoping that he would pick me up again. He didn't, but he didn't drag me off either. He put one arm around my waist and took the little one's hand in his other. Then he led us into the kitchen, which my cell was just beside.

Father picked me up and rested me on the counter, with my back to the wall. Then he boosted the little one up next to me. The little boy snuggled against me. I put my arm around him and accepted his warmth as Father made him breakfast.

When Father was done, he served the little one a bowlful of some kind of food I didn't recognise. Then he surprised me by passing me a bowl of the same.

"Don't tell Palpatine, huh?" he winked at the little one, telling him that it was a joke. I felt better as I ate anyway.

I cried. I couldn't help it, Father seemed to want me. Everything had been so wrong those last few days. Father being kind to me, then cruel, then kind… I didn't know what to make of it.

The little one was studying me, and suddenly he said, "You can call my daddy 'Daddy' if you want. If you're my big brother, he's your Daddy too."

My heart broke. He couldn't really give me permission to do that. Father might get in trouble for it. "But I'm not your brother, so that doesn't work."

"You're like my brother. So he's like your daddy."

"All right. If you're sure," I tried to smile for him.

He nodded decisively. Then he started yawning, and Father told him, "If you're tired, go ahead and sleep. You and Cliegg will both be sleep deprived for a while yet."

The little boy nodded again and put his head on my shoulder. I supported him gently, and felt his breathing start to even out.

I waited while Father cleaned up from making breakfast, and then he came to take the little one out of my arms. He didn't say anything to me, but he let me sit on the counter until he had the little one up in his room.

When he returned, he helped me off the counter and back to my cell. I lay inside it while he finished, wordlessly.


	8. Chapter 8

Father left me in the cell for the night, finally, and I heard his footsteps on the stairs. I was alone. Alone, in a cold, dark, uninviting cell. I hadn't realized that I had already become accustomed to warmth again, but I soon started shivering.

Soon after, my wounds started to ache. I tossed and turned on the floor, but it didn't help. All I succeeded in was bruising myself. I remembered long-past survival lessons. _I never would have guessed that I would be using these to stay warm in my own father's kitchen._

I curled into a ball, wrapping my arms around my knees. It was little more effective for staying warm than it had been for protecting myself from Force lightning. I tried sitting up and rocking, in an effort to keep moving enough that I didn't get too cold. That was less effective than the original curl-in-a-ball tactic. All it did was totally eliminate any chance I had of getting sleep.

I lay back down, still curled in a ball.

_Why did you leave me, Father? Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt you somehow, far before I can even remember? Is this my fault? What did I do? Could I fix it somehow?_

My thoughts turned from questions about my father. I knew they wouldn't be answered. Now I lay and prayed to the Force, begging._ Please, I want my father. Why can't he just be my father, I don't think I'm asking too much!_

_Where is he when I need him? Where is he when I'm scared, lost, hurt, or lonely? Why do I have to fight for every moment of attention I get from him? I'm as special as the little one. It's Father's fault that there is a copy of me at all. If he had never gone ahead and cloned me, then he would only have one of us to deal with, and we could be happy together!_

_I want my dad. I think I deserve to have my dad. And I think I don't deserve to be chained up in this wretched cell. But no one in the galaxy cares about what I think, or what I need, or what I deserve. I'm alone. I'm all alone._

I felt tears start to run down my cheeks. I had always believed the best of everybody. I had always thought that people deserved _more_ than just a second chance. I had given so many people second chances, and more. So how was it that when I needed someone, there was no one around?

I whimpered into the darkness. "Why, Father?"

I cried even harder then, my sobs reaching out to fill the space of the kitchen. I allowed myself the luxury of a few minutes of tears. Then I made myself quiet. My little brother would be disturbed if I kept it up.

I curled tighter and started rocking slightly again. "I want my dad, I want my dad, I want my dad…"

"You will have him. Someday, Luke. I promise." I had never heard the voice before, but there was something familiar about it too.

I rolled over. Sitting beside me was a woman. She wore a dress that folded around her ankles, and a necklace which hung from a cord so long that when she bent forwards to brush my cheek, it swung forwards and landed against my cheek with a hollow _whack._

"Mom?" I asked weakly, afraid to hope.

She didn't answer verbally, just smiled. Then she moved my head onto her lap. I accepted her caresses and affection, basked in it.

"Mom, why did you come to me?"

"You were crying."

"I've cried before. I've been more scared before too."

"Perhaps, but you've never needed someone like this."

"Really? Because I think I've been more desperate."

"You haven't. I know, my son. I know you. In some ways, I think I know you better than you know yourself."

I looked into her face. I didn't understand what she'd said, really, but it didn't matter. At least she tried to understand me, unlike, apparently, Father.

"He does love you, Luke. He is sorry that this is happening."

"Well he has a funny way of showing it."

"He's confused. Your father is a kind, lovable man, but he is usually hugely over confident, or equally impressively under confident. He doesn't know what to do, so he's afraid to do anything, for fear of hurting you."

"His doing nothing is hurting me." I dragged my legs up to my chest again and held them tightly, suddenly unable to look at my mother.

"I know. Try not to be too hurt. Luke, having the responsibility to care for you is scaring him. It's scaring him in a way that he would argue isn't being afraid so much as _concerned_."

"So I have to protect my father?" I asked, half incredulous, half grateful to have had it said in so many words.

"Yes. That's your goal. Don't let him pull that away."

"Thank you for the lifeline."

Mom smiled sadly, "I know it's not enough."

"Anything is better than nothing." I made myself smile for her, the way I do when the little one is upset.

"I had hoped you would feel that way. I'm sorry, but visiting the mortal realm is draining. I have to leave now. I love you, Luke. Sleep well."

Mom shifted my head back off her lap and stood. Then she walked away, out into the darkness of the kitchen. Then reality and her Force spirit fell out of synchronisation and she continued to get smaller, as though she was a great distance away, but she was still in space.

I watched her until I couldn't see her any more. Then I curled up again, and waited. I didn't know what I was waiting for. Morning? Father? A visit from another dead friend or relative? I'm fairly sure that I wasn't waiting for what I got.

A dark smudge moved into the kitchen. A small, high-pitched squeak screamed through the room.

I sat up; curious what could make a sound like that. The shriek came again, and I realized that it was my little brother.

"Shh, Luke. You're going to wake Daddy."

The smudge stumbled, then raced towards me. He paused momentarily at the bars of my cell, and then slipped right through them. He threw himself into my arms, clutching at me desperately. After a moment he pulled away, clearly pretending it hadn't happened, and asked, "I had a nightmare, can I snuggle you?"

"Of course you can. Come here, Luke." I reached out and pulled him back into my arms. My hand touched his cheek, just barely, but it was damp. The poor little kid had probably been crying. "Have you been crying?" I asked, in case he wanted to talk it out.

"No!" he shook his head violently, his hair flinging around wildly. Immediately afterwards, he let out a small sniffle.

"Don't be scared to cry. Go ahead and let it out. It'll be easier than trying to hide it. I don't mind at all." I promised him, brushing his tears away as carefully as I could. He sniffled and buried his face against my chest. I gave him a small squeeze. Another small whimper escaped him, and it was quickly followed by a huge torrent of sobs.

I held him gently for a while. When his sobs decrescendo-ed to small whimpers again, he started shifting uncomfortably against the floor.

"Why did you come down here? Why didn't you get Daddy to snuggle you, you'd have been more comfortable." The floor was not comfortable at the best of times, and when you were lying on someone's bony arm, I couldn't imagine that that would be much better.

He pulled back for long enough to tell me, "Daddy doesn't like to get woken up at night. Sometimes his eyes go yellow at first. It's scary. Almost scarier than the monster in my room." Then he nuzzled me again.

So, Father does go Sith on the boy occasionally. Good thing it's just a cold glare, which the little one can brush off as almost a part of his nightmare. Still, it might frighten him.

Well, I wasn't much of a big brother if I wasn't willing to protect my little brother. "Of course. Any time you need a hug, feel free to come down here."

"Are you telling me to go back to bed?" The little one asked, his small voice afraid.

I decided to put my heart into being a brother. So I told him what my aunt and uncle had told me about monsters. "No, of course not. You can snuggle as long as you need to. Don't be scared. When the sun comes in your window tomorrow the monster will shrivel up and die."

Then he looked up at me again. "Really? Why?"

I hugged him again, just being there. "Monsters can't stand light. It dries them up like puddles in the sun. If you keep a flashlight near your bed you can scare the monsters away whenever you need to. Then you'll always be safe in your room."

"Promise?" the little one asked. I had had that quirk too. It's just a habit, as though if someone says that they promise, it can't be broken.

"Promise."

"What if the monster's in the closet? Or under my bed?" He sounded more hopeful that he might be able to beat the monster, but still afraid that it couldn't be that easy.

I smiled, "If a monster hides under your bed, you can just look over the edge and shine the light under. If it's in the closet you can shine the light through the gap in the doors. Even just a little bit of light is enough."

"Are you sure?" he asked, doubtfully.

"Absolutely," I promised.

When he speaks again, his voice is small again. "I can still stay with you tonight, though? A monster might get me when I'm going to get a flashlight."

I ran out of material from my aunt and uncle, so I slipped into things I had told myself. "Of course, there's safety in numbers too. As long as you're with someone else, monsters aren't dangerous. That's why teddies make us feel safer."

"Really?"

"Really. Don't worry about monsters. Get some sleep." I really needed to sleep too.

"Okay." He falls quiet, and I was just starting to think that I might get some sleep after all. As I was almost asleep, though, I heard Father come down the stairs.

"Good morning, Luke." He said, and I realized that I was hiding the little one in my arms. He must have been addressing me. The boy sat up instantly.

I sensed his surprise, and then flinched as he turned on the lights.

After a few seconds, the little one stood up and slipped back through the bars of the cell. Father scooped him up and sat him down on the counter.

I curled up and yawned. I hadn't slept at all.

I drifted off into a stupor. A moment later, Father was shaking my shoulder gently. When I blinked up at him, he smiled at me. He cast his eyes in the direction of a small metal bowl, which had some food in it. Then he showed me the needle in his hand, telling me that he was about to inject me. He gave me time to turn away before slipping it into my skin.

I let out an embarrassingly involuntary whimper.

When Father had removed the needle, he pushed the bowl of food towards me. I ate quickly, then curled up, hoping for sleep. In my non-existent dreams.

Father left, saying something about needing groceries, and the little one was all over me.

"Would you play a game with me?" he asked, hopefully.

I sighed inwardly. So much for sleep, if the little one wanted to play, that was what I was going to have to do. At least I had the excuse of not being allowed to leave my cell.

"Would you like me to show you how to protect your entire room against monsters?" I asked.

He bounced up, and I wondered absently if he was accidently taking what energy I had left and channelling it into hyperactivity. "Okay! What do we need?"

"We can do it with a durasheet and pencils. Oh, and a count of the lights in your room," I told him.

He raced up the stairs towards his room. I curled up on the floor, hoping that he wouldn't disturb me if I miraculously fell asleep before he got back. I couldn't fall asleep that fast, though, and he was back just as I was drifting into oblivion.

He threw the supplies down on the floor next to me. I caught a pencil that bounced towards my face and took a piece of paper from the mound. "Okay, come here."

He bounded over.

I remembered his room, and sketched the shape as best I could. "This is more or less the shape of your room, right?"

He rested his hands on the edges of the paper and pointed to a spot on one of the walls. "Right. The window is there."

"Good," I added the symbol from construction class, "Where in the ceiling is your light?"

One of his tiny hands darted out and pointed out lamps faster than I could draw them in. "There. I've got one on the wall here and lamps here, here, an' here too."

"Okay, where is the light switch?" I asked when I'd managed to draw in the lights.

"Here, by the door."

"Your bed is here, right?" I asked, already drawing it in.

"Yep, my desk is there, and the closet's over there," he said, finally taking a pencil himself to draw in details.

I thought for a moment, then, "All right. If you tie a string between here and here, here and here, and the window, you can open them easily. That'll work if it's bright out, but that's not the worst time for monsters. If you prop a kitchen chair here, tie a string to it, and tape the end of the string to the light switch, you can pull the middle of the string to open the door and turn on the lights."

"Okay, could you get those ones on too?" He pointed to a couple of uninvolved lights.

"Yeah, let me see…" I tapped my fingers on our plans, then quickly sketched in an impractical, but functional, monster trap. "Here, add a string here, as a trip wire for monsters. When they pull it as they bump it, it turns on this light. That lights the room up enough for you to get out of bed and manually turn on the last lights."

"Okay, wanna come build it?" He asked eagerly.

"I can't, Luke. I'm not allowed to leave the cell. You can build it with your daddy when he gets back. Would you like to do some drawing together?" I tried to give him a piece of durasheet.

"I wanna build the monster trap with you," he whined.

"We can't. I'm sorry. Trust me, I want to too. Let's do some drawing." At least, I would want to if I could muster the energy.

"But- I wanna- please? You could slip out like I do!" _Something tells me he's used to getting what he wants right away._

"I could, but it would be wrong. I might get your daddy hurt. You saw what happens when people make Palpatine mad," I showed him my badly scarred arm. He flinched and I was afraid I had overdone it.

"Sorry. Can I have some paper?" I smiled, glad that he could take that.

I made myself stay awake and draw with him until Father got back. When the door opened, the little one leapt up and raced towards the foyer.

"Daddy! Daddy! We're drawing! Do you like it?"

_Congratulations, you deserve a medal for keeping him occupied this long. _ Father sent me teasingly.

I couldn't see him yet, but I heard the shifting of bags and then, "Just a moment, Luke. Let me put some of this down, kay?"

He hurried into view. The little one tacked back and forth behind him. Father put his grocery bags on the counter and turned to the little one. I had watched the exchange that far, but suddenly I was overcome by jealousy.

_Don't I deserve my father like that? Don't I deserve to play with him, be safe and innocent and happy for him?_ I looked away, afraid that I might do something rash. Instead, I curled into a ball and tried again to sleep, hoping my sudden shortness of temper was due to lack thereof.

Suddenly there was no longer the patter of little feet; instead there was a hysterical fit of giggles from the little one and soft, deep laughter from our father. I glanced up to see Father swinging the little one in circles. The boy caught my eye momentarily and I made myself laugh for him.

As soon as I had an opportunity, I turned away again and tried to sleep. I got away with it for about half an hour, in which Father and the little one talked about something. I was too out of it to understand any of it.

All things must end, though, and I was soon roused again by the little one wanting to draw together. I submitted. Father sat at the table building something. We were as close to a normal family as we ever had been.

I was about to pass out when Father came to my rescue. "Congratulations, you two, you've managed to stay awake almost twelve hours. Let's not push it, though. Bedtime, Luke. You might want to get some sleep too, Cliegg."

_Believe me, I do._ I told him.

_I know._

father came to retrieve the boy, and the child piped up, "Daddy, can we give Cliegg a blanket? Please? It's not really furniture. Please? He gets cold easy!"

Father looked over the little one's head at me. "I suppose that would be all right. I'll give him a blanket when you're in bed."

Father carried the boy up to his room, and returned with a blanket somewhat warmer than I think he could really get away with giving me.

"Goodnight." He turned to say over his shoulder as he stood to leave.

I smiled at him. "Goodnight."


	9. Chapter 9

I woke up to hear Father entering the kitchen. I lay still, curled under the warm blanket he had given me. I knew he could sense that I was awake, and hoped that it didn't hurt his feelings that I wasn't moving or greeting him.

He didn't seem hurt. I closed my eyes again and let his closeness wash over me. I could hear his footsteps, the opening and closing of the refrigeration unit. If I listened very hard, I could even hear his breathing. Force, it was comforting to hear human breathing, not that of some bizarre droid.

Father opened a window, and a cold breeze blew into the room. I curled tighter in my blanket. Father closed the window slightly and I knew in the corner of my still sleep-blurred mind that he was looking at me to see that I'd stopped shivering.

I rolled over to stare out of the cell. Father had his back to me again, fixing the little one's breakfast. It smelled fantastic. I heard my stomach growl. I think Father heard it too, because a moment later, he was pushing the cuttings off of the meat he was preparing into my bowl.

I crawled forward, dragging my blanket with me. Father moved back to the kitchen to continue cooking, but now he was singing softly. I don't have much time for music, honestly, but I do love it. Father's voice may as well have been magic.

I didn't know what words he sang, exactly, but it was Huttese. A few words I knew. Something about comfort, and love. I closed my eyes and rested my head on a bulge of blanket. The song changed suddenly, and it was basic.

Sleep, my baby boy,

Sleep, my little son,

Tonight may be hard,

But tomorrow will be better,

Oh, tomorrow will be better,

Sleep, my baby boy,

Sleep, my little son,

Tomorrow will be better,

But it won't stop getting better,

No, it'll keep on getting better,

Sleep, my baby boy,

Sleep, my little son,

No matter how hard today,

Life can only get better,

Life can only get better.

The melody was as simplistic as the words, but only in the same comforting way that all lullabies are. I knew that he was singing for me, I knew that he was taking a huge risk in singing something that explicitly for me.

It was both comforting and frightening. I closed my eyes. Father was so hard to understand, but he was so comforting when he wanted to be. And I was so tired… Father wouldn't mind if I slept now, would he? I hoped not. I curled up in a ball and Father started to sing in Huttese again.

Sleep came quickly this time. When I woke up again, it was dark, and I had a feeling that it wasn't because it was early morning. Father was still sitting in the kitchen. He was working on the droid for the little one. When he sensed that I was awake, he turned to see me lying quietly in my cell. He smiled at me gently.

Suddenly, I realized that he was singing, very softly. I closed my eyes and begged mentally that the gentle sound continue. He turned back away from my cell and kept singing.

Several minutes later, he finished the piece he was working on and pushed it back across the table. Then he stood and walked to the refrigeration unit. He brought out some food and divided it into two bowls. He pushed one of the bowls into my cell and I took it, smiling at him gratefully.

"You're little brother didn't wake up today," he informed me gently.

My heart leapt into my throat, "He died?"

"No, no. Don't worry. He just really wore himself out. I'm not going to let the two of you stay up that late again for a while."

I nodded, glad to know the little one was okay. Father brought back his own bowl of food and sat down. He sat looking into the kitchen without movement for a few minutes. Then he looked down at the bowl and realized that he didn't have utensils to eat with. He looked at me and I smiled, embarrassed. I had long since given up seeming dignified when I got food. I had just started eating the stew with my hands.

He smiled and reached through the bars to ruffle my hair. Then he stood and retrieved utensils for both of us. He sat against the bars of the cell again and I crawled up behind him. We sat back to back for a while as we ate.

He was so warm… I wanted desperately to crawl out of my cell and wrap my arms around him, feel his arms around me. I wanted to feel warm and safe, the way I had when I had fallen asleep in his arms.

Father knew. I know he did. When he was done, he came into my cell too and let me snuggle against his chest.

I started to cry, and he made gentle cooing noises in his throat, rocking me gently. It was just all too much. The life he had pushed me into was so hard. It changed so much, so quickly. But he kept me safe. He held me when I cried. His arms were always protecting me. And I just felt so safe. I knew I was home. I just knew it.

"Don't cry, Luke. I'm here. Don't cry." Father comforted.

I sniffled and nodded. Then I rested my head on his chest and fell asleep again.


	10. Chapter 10

The next day, the little one was back to his usual, high-maintenance, self. I was half-glad, half-annoyed. I could have used another day of rest.

"Play twenty questions!" The little one shrieked, bouncing up to the bars of my cell.

I rolled over, still tired. "Okay, okay…"

"Come back here, Luke. You're sitting at the table for breakfast today." Father scooped the little one up from behind and placed him on a chair at the table.

"But I wanna be with Cliegg!" The little one insisted.

"No, Luke. You have to eat at the table sometimes." I think Father was trying to give me a chance at sleep.

"Wanna be with-"

"No. Eat your breakfast."

The little one shot a glare at Father, then started to eat. "Please play twenty questions?" He asked me.

Father started to tell him not to bother me, but I nodded. "Okay, you start."

He smiled cheerfully, "Okay! I'm ready!"

"Plant, animal, or mineral?" I asked.

"Hey! Yes/No questions only!"

"I know, that's the exception to the rule!"

"Really?"

Father brought the little one's food to the table, "Cliegg is right. And, Luke, you're going to be having a babysitter today."

"Minera- but Daddy, Cliegg can keep me safe! I don't need a babysitter!" The little one looked furiously at Father.

"Luke, Cliegg is in a cell. If something attacked you he couldn't protect you. No offence, Cliegg, but he couldn't protect himself." Father smiled at the little one.

I grinned, "None taken."

Father smiled at me, and then turned back to the little one. "So you're having a babysitter."

The little one scowled. "But I hate my babysitter! He's strict and he doesn't understand me!"

Father sat down across from him and started in on his own meal. "I know you don't like him. I hired another person to do it today. And this time I want you to avoid lighting a fire, okay? That might be why your other babysitter won't let you in the kitchen anymore."

I stifled a laugh.

"I didn't know that'd happen," the little one muttered.

Father smiled again, "Luke, it is common sense that if you stick something flammable near flame it will catch fire."

I couldn't hold back the laughter that time. I got one heck of a glare from the little one. "I just wanted to know for sure!"

Father rolled his eyes at me, over the little one's head. "Right. This argument is over. The babysitter will be here any moment. And I don't want any more complaints; it's your pet I'm going to get."

At this, the little one perked up a bit. "Snakey's all better now?"

"He should be." Father smiled gently.

"What happened to your snake?" I asked, curiously.

"Luke has been feeding his snake vegetables instead of the mice he's supposed to feed it. That's not exactly a recommended diet and the snake is somewhat ill. It's been at the vet since you arrived." I noticed that Father was speaking the way he used to speak, when he was still wearing his uniform. It was strange to hear, but it clearly made the little one listen.

"Oh, I was wondering what had happened." I nodded.

The doorbell rang, and Father left to get it. The little one hopped off his chair and brought what remained of his breakfast over to me. He slipped through the bars and sat down, pulling out some paper to draw on.

I took some too and started my own drawing. He looked down at it eagerly and started trying to draw the same thing.

After a few moments, I heard the little one's baby sitter coming up the stairs. The little one pointedly turned his back.

I stared over the little one's head. I hadn't been thinking we would have any particular babysitter, but I certainly hadn't expected to see Tank standing at the top of the stairs. He stared at me. I stared back at him.

"Tank?" I mouthed.

He didn't respond. Instead he came up to the cell and addressed the little one. "Luke! What are you doing in that cell?"

The little one moved a little farther into the cell. "I'm drawing pictures, what does it look like I'm doing?"

Tank was still not looking at me. "It looks to me like you're consorting with a dangerous rebel. Get out of there right now."

I was lost. Didn't Tank recognise me? Didn't he remember all the times we played together back on Tatooine? Or did he recognise me? Was it possible that he was calling me these things to show that our friendship meant nothing to him?

"Daddy doesn't mind when I play with Cliegg. Daddy, please tell him you don't mind," the little one said, still not turning around.

"Your daddy has already left, Luke. Come out right now."

"No. I'm staying here." The little one finished his drawing and pulled another towards himself.

Tank looked at me, and if I didn't know better, I'd think there was fear in his eyes. "Don't make me get you out."

The little one dropped his drawing and folded his arms. "I'm telling Daddy you threatened me."

Tank looked at me again, and now I was sure that he wasn't feeling any kind of friendship. "If that's how this is going to work, then I'll tell your daddy that you wouldn't listen to me. And that you were consorting with this scum."

His words made me flinch. "Thanks a lot."

The little one looked at me understandingly, "Don't listen to him, Cliegg. He's a jerk."

I smiled in spite of myself.

Tank's voice pulled me out of my reverie. "That does it, Kid. Out you come." He pulled a ring of keys off his belt and dragged the little one out of my cell. I saw my little brother's jaws close on Tank's hand, but he didn't react.

"Stay out of here," Tank told the little one as he locked my cell behind him.

The little one darted back through the bars, racing straight towards me. Tank caught the back of his shirt and pulled him back out. "If you won't be mature enough to do what I say, I'll have to hold you down and not let you move at all. Stay out of that cell. Would your mommy and daddy want you to act like this?"

I knew instantly that he had taken a bad step. My brother's eyes were instantly filled with tears. He sniffled and looked up at Tank with huge eyes. I was just waiting for Tank to put him down and tell him that he could play with me if he wanted to, but Tank just rolled his eyes.

"Stop being stupid, Luke. You can't play with the rebel."

My brother's eyes got even bigger, and I saw him go limp, wracked by sobs.

"Tank, that's not why he's-"

"Shut up! Shut up, rebel!" Tank shouted furiously.

I shrank back, and saw Tank try to hug the little one. My brother locked eyes with me, and he looked sad. Then the blue turned yellow, as I had seen our father's eyes change. A five year old Sith. What a frightening thought. I used the Force to let myself out of my cell and started to move over to him.

Tank heard my cell's lock click, and he turned to see me coming out, reaching out to the little one, hoping to comfort him. He let go of my brother instantly, and I considered going back into my cell. Seeing the little one's shoulders shaking, I decided that I should comfort him before I did that.

Tank stepped around the little one and flew at me. The next thing I knew, I was pinned to the floor, unable to move.

"Hey! Let me up, I'm not going to hurt any-"

Tank punched me in the face, and I felt my nose break. I bit my lip in an effort to hold back tears. The little one turned to look at me, and I was glad to see that his eyes were blue again.

Tank pulled back and hit me again. I tried to roll out of the way, but we called him Tank for a reason. He was strong. My efforts simply caused the punch to connect with the side of my nose, rather than right on it and I felt the cartilage slipping over itself painfully.

Tank was moving faster than I'd ever seen him move before, beating me badly. After just a few moments, I knew that I was bleeding in several places, and that I would be fairly evenly bruised over my entire body, come tomorrow.

I was rolled onto my stomach, and Tank's large hand was holding my bad arm against my back. He continued to beat me with his other three limbs. I felt tears racing down my cheeks, and I was aware of nothing but the pain, and the hatred in Tank's face.

Suddenly the pain became consistent. I looked up into Tank's face and the look of fury was frozen, I could see his hand shaking as though he were fighting to connect with me again. In the sudden stillness, I realized that the little one had levitated several things, as though he was about to start to throw them into the fight. Or had I done that? I also noticed that my arm was bleeding again. Tank's twisting had torn my newly healed flesh apart.

"Lieutenant, release the prisoner. Luke, let those drop. Do it now." It was Father. I've never been so glad to hear someone in my entire life. Tank released me, and I was able to drag myself away from him.

I turned to look at Father, knew I was crying, almost addressed him as 'Father'. I managed not to, and just watched as he lowered the items the little one had been holding to the ground. My brother ran to retrieve his snake, which was curled around Father's wrist.

As soon as the snake had been returned to its owner, Father came over to where I was lying on the floor, still whimpering helplessly. "What were you thinking, Sunber? Why did you hurt them like this?"

He picked me up and rubbed some of the blood away from my nose. I closed my eyes and rolled towards him. I just wanted him to protect me. He nodded down at me, and pulled me close. I wrapped my arms around his neck and cried on his shoulder.

"The boy wanted to be with him and wouldn't listen to me. Then _he_ let himself out of his cell to hurt the boy." Tank spat out the last sentence. I didn't care what he accused me of at the moment. I just wanted to be held and loved. A moment later, the little one had his arms around me too.

"Luke?" Father asked, wanting the little one's account of the events.

"I just wanted to play with Cliegg. He wasn't trying to hurt me. He was trying to make it better when the sitter hurt me. Then the sitter hurt him. I was trying to protect him." I could feel my brother's lips moving against my back, where he was pressing himself.

"Cliegg, what do you think happened?" Father asked gently, moving me out of his arms so that I could see Tank. I pulled the little one into my arms and held him close.

I sniffled in an attempt to calm myself, and got a mouthful of blood for my effort. "Exactly what Luke said. But I don't think that it's quite fair to Janek. He didn't know what I was doing. I should have explained."

Tank shot me a look that said he didn't need my sympathy and understanding.

"He wouldn't have let you. And he hurt you, so I don't care what he was thinking." The little one glared at Tank from my arms.

Father turned to Tank. "I won't need your services anymore. You should head home."

The little one tried to pull out of my arms at those words. "Don't just let him go! Kill him! Cut him up with your lightsaber!" He gave another tug, as though he felt that he should at least punch Tank. I held him back as gently as I could.

"No, Luke. That's not the solution to everything. But you reminded me, before you go, Lieutenant. Luke, how did he hurt you?" Father brushed the little one's bangs off his forehead.

My brother sniffled and I wrapped my arms a bit tighter, feeling that it was very important that I protect him now. "He talked about Mommy like she was still here. He said she'd be embarrassed by me."

I knew the pain of those lies. I had been lied to about how my parents would feel about me. I remember running home to cry myself to sleep after Fixer or one of the others said something like that.

"Don't cry, Luke. It'll be okay. Your mom wouldn't be ashamed of you no matter what. Lieutenant, you may go."

Tank flat out ran out of the room. I don't blame him, to be honest. In my arms, the little one gave a cold laugh. I looked down at him and saw a Sith's cold, tawny eyes.

Father took him for a moment and caressed his back, then put him down. When he looked at me again, his eyes were blue.

Father stood up, and wrapped my left arm around his neck. He practically carried me down to the medcenter in his basement. When we arrived, he placed me on a table and carefully brushed away more of the blood that was slowly dripping down my face.

The little one looked at me in concern and passed me his snake. I took it gently, "Thank you, Luke."

The snake wound its way up my arm and tried to go into my sleeve. I pulled it back off as carefully as I could, and I heard the little one laughing.

Father gently touched my nose, and I gasped in pain. He wiped away the tear which had slid past my defenses, "I'm sorry, Cliegg, but it looks like that fight broke your nose."

I laughed roughly, which really hurt. "What fight? You were right; I didn't have a hope of defending myself!"

Father nodded, "I'm sorry to hear that. Hold still." He carefully moved an instrument over my nose, and I felt better immediately.

I prodded at my nose curiously, "Thank you."

The little one looked up at me, "Is it all better now?"

"Yes, it's all better." Father tried to help me to my feet, but I was exhausted, and I just fell down again. He looked at me, then gathered me in his arms. I felt the snake slither down my arm and assumed that the little one was taking it.

Father put me down in my cell and wrapped the blanket around me. My brother sat and looked at me concernedly. I moved the blanket up in an invitation to share the warmth and comfort. He crawled up against me and played with his snake absentmindedly.

Soon after, he was asleep. I took the snake from his hands to make sure before calling out to my father.

"Father?"

He came into the cell and sat beside me. Seeing the little one asleep in my arms, he said, "Here, I'll take him upstairs, then we won't have to worry that he wakes up when we're talking."

I nodded, and Father took my brother and his snake up to his room. A few moments later, Father was back.

"He's in bed. What do you need?"

"Father, when you hired Janek, did you know that we knew each other?"

Father sighed and sat beside me, taking my head in his lap. "I knew. He was the person I learned of you from. But when he told me, he seemed hesitant, afraid to give you up. I thought that you would be happy to see each other. Instead, it seems that he took it as some kind of threat, or trick."

"I'm not angry. I just wanted to know."

"I know, Luke." It was good to hear my name applied to me again.

"Speaking of anger, when Ta-Janek was hurting me, the little one's eyes turned yellow. Are you training him as a Sith?"

Father shook his head, "No. I wouldn't do that. He displayed that Sith-characteristic because he is part Sith."

"But I am too. Do my eyes turn yellow when I'm angry?" I asked, worried.

"No. As I'm sure you've guessed, your little brother is a clone."

"Yes, I know." I nodded.

"And he is mostly a clone of you."

"Mostly?" I questioned.

"Yes. You see, a clone that is expressly one person is terribly fragile. So a bit of different genetic data had to be added. There is not a lot of the other donor, but he is the Emperor. When I say not a lot, I mean next to none. But what little genetic data he shares with the Emperor is enough to make his eyes turn yellow when he is angry."

I giggled nervously, "You mean he's basically what would happen if Palpatine and I had a kid?"

Father smiled at me sympathetically, "I know it's hard to accept."

I felt suddenly queasy. "That's ludicrous. You're making this up, right?"

"I'm afraid not."

"But why the Emperor? Why didn't they just use your genetic data?"

"Because you're my son. It wouldn't be enough of a difference to use me. That would just have made him a little bit less like your mother."

"So he's like the Emperor?"

Father kissed my cheek, "Not really. The only similarity is the yellow eyes when he's angry. Other than that, he's you. When his eyes turn yellow it doesn't even mean that he's that angry. It just seems that Palpatine has a bit of a pigment problem that was passed on to him."

I shivered. "I don't like that thought."

Father held me carefully, "I'm not too fond of it either. Just don't think about it too much. He's still your little brother. He's still an innocent little kid."

I nodded. Then I closed my eyes and pressed against my father's neck.

"That's it, Luke. Just sleep now. It won't hurt anymore, when morning comes."

I wrapped my arms a little tighter, and he wrapped the blanket around me and held me until I was asleep.


	11. Chapter 11

I woke to the sound of Father singing the next day. As usual, it was Huttese, but it still had the same comforting effect as when he sung in basic. I wondered sleepily if he was using the Force to calm me.

Suddenly, the Force cried out, and I realized that that was what had woken me. Father started.

The Force gave another cry, and I realized that it was my brother. Father realized in the exact same instant, and ran to him.

I lay in my cell for three excruciating minutes. Then Father came back down the stairs, carrying the little one in his arms. My brother's small arms were limp, and I reached out to him, wanting to take him in my own arms and assess the damage.

"Is he all right?"

"I think when we brought you from prison we brought some germs too, Luke has a flu. He wants you to cuddle him." Father carefully placed the little one in my arms.

His small face was a bit green, and he was crying miserably. Father made sure I had a good grasp on him, then started to walk away. Instantly, the little one's face was full of panic.

"No! I want Daddy too!"

Father turned back to us and sat down. He took me in his arms, effectively encompassing both of us. The little one whimpered and pulled himself back towards Father. I smiled down at him. Then I pressed myself against our father, in an effort to take advantage of all the warmth that was basically being wasted, and to let the little one know that we weren't planning to leave him.

Father cradled us both together, and something about being snuggled against my sibling felt familiar. I closed my eyes and pressed closer still. Father was warmth and safety embodied right now. I wanted nothing more than to stay in his arms forever.

"Daddy, you're always really busy." The little one looked up at Father.

"I know, Kiddo. I'm sorry." He bent and kissed the child's forehead.

"You're always working right now. You never have time to snuggle."

"I have some time. I know it's not enough."

"Emperor probably wants you working right now."

"The Emperor would have me not sleep if he could."

"I don't want you to get hurt. Cliegg says he hurts people if they don't do what they want."

_Sorry…_

_It's true. He needed to find out sooner or later._

"Are you telling me to go work?"

"I just don't want you to get hurt.

"Thank you for worrying about me, Luke. I'll go do that now. I'll bring it to the table, though."

Father leaned me against the wall and wrapped my blanket around the two of us. Then he left my cell and retrieved some paperwork, which he started to do at the table.

In my arms, my baby brother was crying again. Looking down at him, I saw that he was simply miserable, not in danger of being sick again. I rocked him gently, and tried to imitate the cooing sounds Father used to make me feel better.

At the sound, he glanced up. Seeing that it was me, he smiled slightly. The little one's eyes closed and I shut up, but kept rocking him.

Suddenly, he coughed again, displaying a symptom I often get.

"Sir? I think Luke's going to be sick again." I informed my father.

Father came to my cell and took the little one again. "You heard Luke, Cliegg. Call me Daddy." He looked almost sad that I wasn't calling him that all ready.

He carried my brother up to the fresher, but he was back soon. He wasn't even opening his eyes all the way when Father placed him back in my arms. He reached out to me groggily, though. The instant he could, he pressed his face against my shirt. I rocked him and cradled him against myself as gently as possible.

"Daddy, I'm hungry," his voice was small.

"All right, Luke. Would you like some apple sauce?" Father was already standing up.

"Okay." He snuggles me, "Wanna story."

I don't tell stories much, "A story… what kind of story?"

"Tell me about being a Jedi."

I flinched, "I don't think your daddy would like that. Why don't you ask him to tell you a story?"

"Daddy, tell me a story." He mumbled.

"You want stories about the Jedi?" Father asked, passing him some applesauce.

"Mhmm," he crawls towards our father.

"The Jedi, the Jedi… Do you want to hear about my Jedi Master?" Father sat down beside us and took the little one out of my arms.

"Otay."

Father wrapped his arms around me, "His name was Obi-Wan, and we used to have the most wonderful adventures together. He hated my flying, but in a pinch he would put up with it. We were like a family for a while, and I think we both loved each other. I know that he said I was like his brother. I sometimes thought of him as more of a father. He was wonderful. If I had known back then that I was going to be a father, I would have trusted him with the child's life."

I burst into silent tears. He directed his full attention to holding me and snuggling me. I was just so glad that he was glad that I was with Ben. He cradled me closer and started telling the little one a story. I couldn't bring myself to pay attention to it. Father still had his arms around me, comforting me.

I smiled at him and he did his best to return the smile. All I was aware of was him. Not his story, although the little one seemed completely enthralled.

Soon, Father returned the boy to his room. Then he came back to my cell.

"Who do I think I'm kidding? I don't want to treat you like this. I can't stop myself from saying things that are at least enough to get me the worst punishment the Emperor can think of."

"I'm sorry." I felt terrible that my father might be hurt by me.

"Don't be, Luke. It's okay. I'm just saying that I've had it with keeping you in this cell. You're coming with me." Father picked me up and carried me to his room. In his arms, I clung to his neck.

He put me down on his bed, pulled the blankets up around me. I grasped desperately at their warmth. I had almost stopped noticing how cold I was, but now that I was offered warmth, my body remembered how much it liked being warm.

Seeing my reaction, he pulled up another blanket. "I'll go get some food for you. I'll see you in a moment."

He turned and left, leaving me to lie still, confused. I decided I didn't really care about his motives, that I was just glad that he loved me.

A few moments later, he was back. He was carrying some food, and I suddenly realized that this was exactly how our first night together had worked. I reached out for the food and he sat down on the bed beside me and started spooning it into my mouth. This really made me feel mature.

"How do you feel, Luke?" Father asked, when I was done.

"Much better." I didn't respond any farther than that. Instead, I crawled into his arms and rested my head on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Luke. I scared you, didn't I?" Father asked, stroking my back gently and then placing me back on the bed.

"A bit. Don't do that again, okay? Just stay my dad." I reached out, wanting him to hold me again.

Instead, he crawled into bed beside me and drew me into his arms then.

"I'm so sorry. I've been a terrible father. I won't stop being your dad, I promise."

"I forgive you, then." I smiled at him.

He smiled, then frowned a bit, as he reached out to touch a bruise on my forehead. "Janek hurt you pretty badly, didn't he?"

"I guess."

"I'm sorry, I thought it would be all right."

"I know, Dad. Don't worry about it."

Father kissed my cheek. I closed my eyes and pressed closer to him, breathing in his scent.

That night, for the second time, I slept in my father's arms.


	12. Chapter 12

"Again, Lord Vader? You really are a slow learner." I was woken by the Emperor's voice. Instantly, I grasped at my father's chest. He wrapped his arms around me this time, thankfully.

"I suppose I am." He sat up and shrugged, holding me tightly.

I turned away from his chest, where I had been hiding my face. The Emperor glared back at me, his tawny eyes seeming to bore right into my soul. I started to cry helplessly, and Father's arms tightened around me, extremely comforting.

"Bring the boy to my shuttle." It wasn't a request. It was most certainly a demand.

"What if I don't?" Father asked.

"Then you and your younger son will suffer the same treatment he will be put through."

I didn't want to think about what that would be. Instead, I closed my eyes and pressed against my father. I felt him swallow.

"Can I at least bring him to the prison?" He asked.

The Emperor looked at him calculatingly. "I suppose."

Father picked me up, and I clung to him, crying. I was already hurting, thinking about being back in prison. Another aspect of the torture occurred to my father.

"May I feed him breakfast?"

"No."

Father nodded slowly. He cradled me close, aware of how frightened I was. I made myself look over his shoulder, and watched my home disappear. Father carried me onto the shuttle that waited on the platform, and allowed me to crawl out of his arms. I pressed close to him as we walked into what was a cross between a holding cell and a waiting room.

Father sat down and pulled me onto his lap. I felt tears trickling down my cheeks and wrapped my arms around his neck.

"I don't want to go back to jail."

"I know, Luke. I'm sorry." Father kissed my head, running his hands down my back.

"Did you know he would react like this?"

"No. I thought he would hurt me, maybe. I thought you were safe. I didn't mean for this to happen."

"It's okay, I just wanted to know." I sniffled.

"I'm so sorry. I have some food if you'd like it." Father pulled a nutrition bar off his belt.

"But won't he hurt you? Or the little one?" I asked.

"I'll take care of that, Luke. Just eat." Father pressed the food into my hand.

I took it hesitantly, but I knew that I would be starved while in prison. "Father, will the little one be hurt by me again?"

"I don't want to do this to you, but we could avoid it."

I shivered, expecting something terrible.

"We could sever your Force sensitivity. Then he will have a much harder time getting it. At worst, I think he would be tired for you."

I shook harder, "How do we do that?"

Father pulled something off his belt, "The traditional way is to have another Force sensitive do it to you, but then you couldn't undo it yourself. I designed this. I just attach it to your neck, and you can't reach to the Force accidently, but if you need to, you can turn it off."

I nodded. Father placed it on the back of my neck and tiny claws dug into my flesh and attached it to my neck, making me flinch in pain.

"Sorry. I'm just going to clean the blood up, okay?" Father asked.

I nodded, and the little device felt strange against my skin. Father used the edge of his robe to dab at my wound.

"It's going to be okay, Luke. I promise; I'll make it all right."

I nodded and clung to his chest, wanting nothing more than to stay there forever. Father seemed to sense how I was feeling, because he held me and didn't try to speak again. I started to cry again, feeling the tears dripping down my cheeks again and wishing that Father could change his mind and take me back home again.

Finally, I felt the ship dock, and Father picked me up. We rejoined the Emperor on the deck and the last words I heard my father speak were said.

"How long will he be here?"

"One week. He will probably not survive."

Stormtroopers came to take me from Father's arms. I tried desperately to give him one last hug, but I was pulled away. I saw him come after me for a moment before stopping and waving goodbye.

The trooper who held me put me down on the ground and pressed his blaster against my back, pushing me onwards. I stumbled down the halls, sobbing. That quickly earned me a blow to the head.

_Welcome back. We've missed beating you._ I imagined the trooper thinking. Of course, I had no idea if this was the same trooper from before. They pushed me past my old cell, right down into solitary. The cells here were empty. They were strictly for short punishments for people already in prison.

Soon, it was far too dark to see. I was pushed into what I assume was a cell and hit on the head again so that I fell to my knees.

"Home sweet home, Skywalker." The trooper sneered and I heard him leave the cell.

I curled up on the floor. I knew the routine. I would have half an hour to grow accustomed to the cell, then the torture would start. I cried. I wanted my home, with my father and my little brother. I wanted Leia, Han, and Chewbacca. I just wanted to be safe.

The Emperor said I wouldn't survive. I wouldn't ever see any of them again. I wanted to have Han call me Kid, just once more. I wanted to see Leia. I wanted to feel safe and loved with them. That was how we worked, before they tore us apart. We were a family, always.

I wondered about death. Would it hurt? Would my life flash before my eyes? Would there be a light? And after death, what then? I wanted to believe that I would rejoin my mother, but despite Father's promises, I couldn't be sure.

Finally, I gave up on wondering. I was scared.

A trooper came to get me. At least, I assumed it was a trooper. I lay on the floor and it came up beside me.

"This is going to hurt like Hell, boy," said a cold voice.

I nodded, knowing that they would have some kind of night-vision. I felt something cold against my foot.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"You will be doing your fair share of walking, so it will have to hurt. I'm going to cut your feet apart."

The knife cut deep into the sole of my foot and I howled. The man pressed harder and I was sure that he must have reached the bone. He continued cutting me. After a few minutes, a little flickering light was visible. I looked down at it, the man sat beside my feet, heating the knife with a lighter. A small pool of blood surrounded my feet.

I cried out as he started cutting again. I cried out for Ben, for my aunt and uncle, for my father. I knew none of them would come. And what 'they' say is a lie. Hoping hurts. Hoping for protection, love, and safety. Hoping for things you know you won't get is Hell.

Finally, the lighter moved nearer my face. I looked past it at the man and suddenly I placed his face.

"Uncle Owen?" I asked, shocked.

"Is something wrong, little nephew?" he asked sarcastically. Then he drove the knife into my cheek, making me scream. "Does that hurt, Lukey?"

I sobbed and clutched at my cheek. This wasn't Uncle Owen, it couldn't be. "Please, I didn't mean to let you die!"

"Let us die. You brought the stormtroopers right to our doorstep!"

I cried. I didn't want him to be right, but I knew that he was.

"Is-is Auntie Beru here too?" I asked, afraid to hear the answer. I didn't even realize that I'd used the most childish form of her name. I was just a little kid now, begging for comfort, hiding from the monster in my closet. Except that the monster was my uncle, and the closet was the darkness, and yet the person I ran to was my uncle, and no comfort at all was offered.

"I'm here, Luke." She said, stepping into the light of the flame.

I reached out to her, hoping that she would comfort me. Instead, she pulled out her own weapon.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked.

"Because you're a stupid little rebel. We're doing this because you brought the Empire straight to our doorstep, just like your stupid, Jedi father." Auntie Beru knelt beside me, and brushed my hair away from my forehead, like she used to when I was sick. I relaxed slightly, comforted. The next moment, there was another stabbing sensation as she drove a small knife she'd had concealed in her hand right into my skull.

Tears sprang to my eyes. "My daddy's not a Jedi, he's a Sith."

"Back when he was a Jedi, he saw your grandmother die. Do you know how he reacted?" Aunt Beru asked.

I didn't want to know.

"He almost hurt your mother. He threw a wrench at her. I don't doubt that it was a repeated occurrence."

"That's not true." I croaked. Dad had to love my mom, otherwise, everything he'd told me might be a lie.

"It is true, Luke, and you know what else?"

"Please, Auntie Beru…" I begged her not to tell me. I begged her to let at least some small element of comfort in memories remain.

"Your daddy killed your mommy." Uncle Owen said, taking his place on my other side and starting to caress my hair.

"No."

"Yes, Sweetie. Sometimes daddies and mommies don't get along forever. And, well, some deal with it better than others." Aunt Beru told me.

"Dad would never kill Mom." I tried to tell them, "He loved her. She meant everything to him."

"That's what he told you, isn't it? But then, he wanted you to trust him. And telling you that he killed your mother wouldn't be the best first step. Of course, maybe it's true. Maybe that's why you were dumped on our doorstep as a baby."

"No one dumped me. You said someone brought me."

"Yes, but it wasn't for you. Obi-Wan brought you to us so that he could train you as a Jedi when you were old enough. He didn't care that it meant taking you away from your father. He watched you grow up wanting your father, and he never even considered taking you back. Once when you were very small, I tried to take you back. He stopped me. He said you were the only hope for the galaxy, and he said that your happiness was irrelevant as long as you were still ready to be trained as a Jedi."

I cried harder. Ben had wanted me as a Jedi, not the son I'd come to imagine myself as. My aunt and uncle's caresses were full of pain, occasional stabbings interspersed in the kindness.

"Your daddy only wanted to train you as a Sith, that was all you ever meant to him. We were the only ones who ever genuinely loved you. And you led the Empire straight to our doors so that you could go on some stupid adventure. All you ever cared about was star travel, and being a hero. The very same reasons your father left you. He wanted to be important. And he is important, but no one loves him. Now you are important too, and no one loves you either."

_Daddy! Tell me they're lying, please! Please, don't let this be true! Don't Han and Leia love me?_

"Your rebel 'friends'? They see you only as another tool; they love you as much as one loves a hydrospanner. You mean nothing to them, really. They lie that they love you only to get better performance from you."

"They mean a lot to me. Han says I'm his best friend." I said, knowing that those words sounded stupid and childish.

"Best friend. Those words have meant a lot to you, haven't they? But think about it, who are your best friends? Biggs? Cammie? Tank? Fixer? Windy? Leia? Han? They're not here, Luke. They don't really love you. We're the only ones with you now. And you don't deserve love, so we don't love you either."

"Why are you doing this? Aren't parents and guardians supposed to be people you can trust to make you feel better?" I asked.

"You have no idea what we went through for you. You've been in and out of prison, but we've been here since you left us." Uncle Owen said, stopping caressing me and took the knife to my side.

"Please, stop! I never meant to hurt you!" I begged, reaching up to Aunt Beru in the hope of being held.

"You abandoned us, Luke. You never came looking for us." Aunt Beru shrugged, and I started to cry harder.

"I thought you were dead! Your bodies were lying outside the house!"

"I thought you were smarter than that. The Empire just threw up a stupid, flimsy shield. But now you'll pay for what you did. You will pay, Luke." My aunt held the knife against my throat and cut in. I whimpered.

"Please, Auntie, don't."

"You should have come back for us. This is all your fault." Uncle Owen said in a cold voice, stabbing me again.

"Uncle Owen…. I never wanted you hurt!"

"It's ironic isn't it? We had a fight, and suddenly your dreams were coming true and we were in prison. A little bit too much to be a coincidence."

"I just want to be safe! Please, I never did anything to hurt you!"

"But we spent our whole lives caring for you, and you didn't even try to save us." Aunt Beru told me.

"I thought you were dead!" I cried.

"You should have checked." My uncle didn't seem to care for me at all. My aunt looked a little more reserved, but she was still decimating my body with her knife.

"Auntie…?" I reached up to her again.

"No, Luke. Just lie still. It'll all be over soon."

I did as I was told and lay still.


	13. Chapter 13

The next day, they came to my cell again, with their coldness. I sat up, holding my arms out to my aunt, hoping again for comfort. None was offered.

My uncle knelt beside me, "Hello, Luke."

I tried to make myself smile, "Hi, Uncle Owen."

My aunt took her place at my other side and put her hand on my forehead, "Are you feeling better this morning?"

"No. I just want to go home." I told her.

"We want to take you back to the farm, Luke. I swear, we do," My aunt bent over and kissed me.

Uncle Owen didn't comment. I pulled myself into my aunt's arms, and she held me gently.

"You said you were a prisoner too. Would you take me back to your cell with you?" I begged.

My aunt nodded, and pulled me to my feet. I flinched as the wounds my uncle had inflicted suddenly touched the ground. He still didn't offer any help, though. I tried to lean on my aunt, but she too stepped away from me. They started down the hall, hand in hand, and I limped after them as fast as I could.

"Please, slow down!" I called. My aunt turned to look at me over her shoulder.

"Come along, Luke. We don't have all day."

I nodded, and tried to hurry up. It was torture. I decided to run. The floor felt like fire against my wounds, but I managed to avoid it fairly well. I caught up with my guardians and slowed down.

"Please, help me." I whimpered, reaching out to my aunt.

"No, no, Sweetie. You have to make this walk yourself." She told me.

I nodded and stumbled along beside them. Once I stumbled, and fell. My uncle drove his knife into my back, and I dragged myself back to my feet. Finally, we reached their cell. They led me in, and I fell to the floor, crying in relief. It was just slightly brighter here than it was in my cell.

"Are you all right, Luke?"

"My feet hurt. Auntie, please, make it better." I was really just asking her to hold me.

She did, tucking my hair behind my ears. I was just starting to feel safe in her arms again when there was a searing pain from my back. I wailed, and my aunt's caresses continued, gentle, reassuring. But they weren't as comforting, now that I knew that she would happily intersperse them with pain.

"Why?"

"We told you yesterday, Luke. We've been through Hell for you. Now it's time for you to go through the same thing. We're going to hurt you again, now. Brace yourself."

I whimpered and curled into a ball, trying to protect myself. My aunt and uncle did as they said they would, and wounded me again. I lay still on the floor and whimpered. Finally, they were done.

"Is-is it over?" I asked.

Aunt Beru put her knife down and put one hand against my biggest wound. The blood splattered her hand and she nodded quietly. "I think so, Luke."

I sighed helplessly, relaxing on the floor as best I could, what with all my muscles screaming in protest. Feeling a tear trickle down my cheek, I hoped my aunt would come and brush it away, hold me.

"No-no. Get up, you have to return to your cell."

"What?" I whimpered, reflexively trying to clutch at the smooth floor. "Please, Auntie. Just let me stay. I don't want to go back there! You know how I feel about being alone. Don't make me. Please."

"Come along. If you don't come willingly, we can always continue."

I leapt to my feet, trying to hold back a sob at the pain that shot through me. But Auntie! Something's been hurting you! I have to stop it. Please. I longed to beg her forgiveness, make myself as pathetic as possible, but somehow I felt it wouldn't help. For a moment I wondered if it might even make it worse. I shuddered. No, it couldn't. I hoped that it was not possible.

She opened the door to the cell and I hesitantly stepped outside. The moment I was out, my aunt stepped out and the door slammed shut on Uncle Owen. I ran. I raced back through the halls, feeling more and more tears on my cheeks.

This wasn't fair. I just wanted to go home, back to the farm, or the Alliance, or my father. I wanted to go home and be safe and loved.

I ran into my cell, hearing the door slam behind me. Let it slam. See if I cared. It would only harm me if I stayed in the way. But I never did. I could run very quickly when I wanted to. But I could never get away from here. I couldn't run through space. I couldn't run away home.

_Fly away home. Oh, wouldn't I love to do that? I curled into a ball of misery on the floor. I wanted my father desperately. Was he all right? Was the little one?_

Remembering Bespin, I turned off the machine on my neck, looking for Leia.

_Leia? Are you there?_

_Luke?_ I suppose Leia sensed my pain, because she added, _Luke, what's happened to you?_

_I'm in prison._

_So are we, but they haven't hurt us as they've hurt you! What have they done to you?_

_They have you and Han as well?_

_Yes. Luke, what have they done to you?_

_It's not what they've done to me. It's what they've done to my aunt and uncle._

_I thought they were dead._

_So did I. But they certainly don't seem to be. I'm fairly certain that these are them, but something terrible has happened to them! They've been hurt so badly._

_And you're frightened. Of course. I'm sorry._

_I didn't know we could do this._ I realized suddenly. _The closest we've ever come is exchanging names on Bespin. _

_You are stronger every day, Luke. I've seen it since you first met Obi-Wan. You are a very fast learner, and I suppose that that was all the help you needed to learn this._

_And what about you? You've never had any Force training, have you?_

_Force training? Luke, I'm not Force sensitive!_

I was stunned for a moment as I realized_. Yes you are. You must be really strong in the Force. How else could I ask you for help when I was so weak? And how could you possibly respond. You must be strong in the Force._

I felt Leia laugh, _No! I'm not Force sensitive! You are so odd sometimes._

_You must be! Leia, listen! It's the only answer!_

_No it isn't! You must be stronger than you think. You're just sensing my thoughts and so you assume that I'm sending them to you!_

Our comfortable argument calmed me greatly. We continued the same roundabout argument for a long while before one of us fell asleep. We may never know which of us, though, neither of us remembers the other falling asleep.


	14. Chapter 14

The next day when Aunt Beru came into my cell, I was still curled on the floor, shaking desperately.

I expected her to sit down next to me, and stroke my hair, gently caressing me before she hurt me again, and I was not disappointed.

I quaked as the first knife met my flesh. The second slash brought out a loud whimper.

"Not so strong anymore, Luke?"

"I-I guess not." I whimpered, already fearing the next stab.

"Poor baby." She crooned, cradling me close.

_Don't let me go! Please, don't put me back on the floor. Don't stab me again. I just need to be held for a few moments. Please, just let me have that. Take care of me again, Auntie. Just one more time._

"Are you thirsty, little one?" Aunt Beru asked me kindly. My body instantly cried out for the water, and I felt myself open my mouth to beg. Before I had the chance to say anything, she had a small glass of water at my lips, allowing me a few drops. I lapped at them desperately.

"There there, Luke. Drink slowly." Her hand ran through my hair and I reached for the glass again. Slowly, she brought it back to me. I drank more.

"Where's Uncle Owen?"

"The Empire is angry. They don't feel that this is affecting you enough. They've taken your uncle away, I don't know where." I heard a sob in her voice. "They say you can stay with me now, though. Would you like that?"

I faltered. I was frightened alone in my cell at night, it was true. But taking my uncle's place felt terribly wrong.

"Auntie, you have no idea what they're doing to him?"

My aunt just shook her head, "I can only guess."

"It's all my fault." I moaned. I couldn't bear the thought of my uncle being hurt because of me.

"Yes, it is. And I must say that hurting you will be more enjoyable for me now, Luke. But if you are frightened and want to come back to my cell with me, I will allow you your sleep."

"I want to come then, Auntie." _I said in a small voice. I want to come, but I'm not trying to take Uncle Owen's place. Even though you've been changed by all this you still seem to love him._

"Finish the water, Luke. Then we will leave for my cell."

I nodded and reached out for the water again. Aunt Beru held the glass back to my lips and I drank greedily.

"Have you had anything to drink recently?" I asked, concerned.

"Yes, don't worry about me." Aunt Beru gave my cheek another gentle caress. I noticed that there hadn't been as much pain today.

As though she'd heard me, she stabbed me.

Then she held the last of the water to my lips and allowed me to drink it. Then she stood, pulling me to my feet. I ran from the cell when she opened the door, back to the still open door of her cell. She was running behind me and managed to slip in too.

I lay down on the floor and rested my cheek against the cool metal. It was happening. I was starting to die. I tired far too quickly.

"Aunt Beru? I'm frightened."

She sat beside me again, gentle caresses resuming.

"I know."

"I think I'm dying."

"You are. We both are. Your uncle may already have died."

I felt a tear on my cheek. "I don't want to die, Aunt Beru."

"I know you don't. Neither do I. Perhaps they will be kind enough to make it quick."

"Not for me. But maybe they'll be kind to you. You always were a law abiding farmer."

"You forget that we housed you for seventeen years. That was illegal."

"Not as much as what I've done." I almost laughed.

She wasn't hurting me at all anymore. Instead, she spoke to me as though we were back on Tatooine and she was just tucking me into bed after a nightmare. I rested my head against her, trusting her to hold me gently and try to make it better. She did. I was just starting to believe that maybe my life wouldn't be Hell for its last few days when several stormtroopers entered the room.

"Stupid woman. Don't you ever learn? You and your husband will suffer greatly for this." Two of the troopers grabbed my aunt, and three came for me. I didn't struggle. My aunt, too, had gone limp.

As I was carried away, I saw her being taken in the opposite direction. There was sadness in her eyes when they met mine, and I felt tears begin to sting.

The troopers carried me down for interrogation. I never knew when one day ended and the next began. All I knew was the pain that tore at my body, and the relief in my soul. My uncle was still alive. If they were to be made to suffer, my father would rescue them. Even if I died, they would be protected.


	15. Chapter 15

When the men suddenly walked away from the rack they had strapped me to, muttering something about being hungry, I knew it was my only chance. As soon as they had turned their backs, I managed to squirm until I'd turned off Father's machine. Next, I used the Force to unclamp the chains from my wrists, ankles, and neck.

When they had all been released, I fell to the floor, suddenly and painfully. Slowly, I picked myself back up and checked for broken bones. Fortunately, I seemed fairly stable.

As soon as I could move again, I ran. Each step hurt, and I longed to just fall to the ground and sleep. But I knew better than that. It would only give them time to drag me back to the torture rack. Instead I let myself fall to my hands and knees and crawl.

_Where is their hanger anyway?_ My hands ached with each time they touched the floor._ It has to be around here somewhere! Where else could they possibly put a hanger than on the outside? _

Finally, I bumbled into the hanger. As quickly as I could I stole a transport and blasted out._ I'm going home. I'm going home. I'm going home. Father will be there, I'm sure of it. It must be that building in the distance. The second tallest._

I reached out in the Force, looking for my father. He was silent. For a moment, that frightened me._ No. Father's just not responding because he thinks I'm still in prison. And the Emperor can still sense it if we communicate._ Just to be sure, I sent my father a pathetic plea telling him how badly they were hurting me.

As I reached the castle, I managed to crawl out of the ship and into the castle. I had dragged myself into one of the halls nearer where I could sense my family when Father stepped into the hall.

"Luke!" he stared down at me in surprise. "How did you manage to get yourself back here?"

"I flew. I stole a ship." I shook, wanting him to come to me.

"You can't be here. I have to report you to the Emperor."

"Father, please! Don't send me back there! I can't take it… please…" I wailed the first part, then quieted as he shook his head and put one finger to his lips. The little one was asleep. However, he followed the motion with sitting down and taking my head in his lap. I closed my eyes and snuggled against him.

"Luke, I can't. My master would kill us." Father caressed my head gently.

I dragged myself closer to his warmth. "Please. It's too much. I can't take it. I promised… your little son that I could take it, but I can't. I just can't. Please…"

"I wish I could, but it would just make it worse for all of us. I'm sorry, Luke. I have to turn you in again. It'll be over soon." Father pulled me closer and started to run his fingers through my tangled hair, making me flinch.

Next I reached for his neck so I could whisper in his ear. "It might be over sooner than you think. Father, I think I'm dying." Unfortunately, all that time screaming had made me temporarily quite unable to control the volume of my voice. It was all or nothing.

I felt Father become as stiff as a board. Then he tried to relax and started stroking my back again. "Don't be frightened, Luke. You can hold on. I'm sure of it."

"I'm not. I'm frightened. Please hold me. If you're going to turn me in again, just promise you'll hold me until they get here to take me away. Promise you'll treat me like I'm the one you raised. Like I'm your baby. Like you actually care…" The words were spilling out now, unbidden. I never meant to say these things. I had just wanted to be held and comforted.

"I do care, Luke. I do care about you. You are my little baby, even if you're not the one I raised. Why are you so scared you won't survive? You're a strong child, you can survive." As he said it, I remembered that the little one's memories were false up until so recently. Father hadn't raised the boy.

"I don't know about that. They torture me all the time. I'm not allowed to sleep. I haven't eaten since I arrived. Force, it's so cold in those cells. Father, I'm not well suited to cold! I grew up on Tatooine, for the star's sake!" I burst into tears, trusting my father to protect me from the memories. He did, gently clutching at me, never once even loosening his grip.

"I know, I know. You're frightened. Don't be, you can make it."

Dread shot through me a moment before the little one walked around the corner, staring at me and Father as though his world was crashing down around him. If he'd heard our conversation, it probably was.

"Daddy? Cliegg? What's happening?" His eyes were round and frightened.

"Come here, Luke. How long have you been listening in?" Father reached out to the little one, and for a moment there was a surge of jealousy. I needed to be held far more than the little one right now!

"What's happening? Why are you calling him Luke? I'm Luke, he's Cliegg." The little one intoned, pointing at me, and then himself, to illustrate his point.

"Yes, I called him Luke. I know you're used to calling him Cliegg. He chose that name when he heard me call you Luke and then you asked him what his name was. He didn't want to confuse you." Father said gently, reaching out for the boy again.

"You're lying to me!"

I decided it was time for me to intervene. "It's true, Luke. Don't worry about it." I gave him the best smile I could.

"It's not the whole truth! You're not telling me something!" He stomped on the floor and seemed on the verge of a full on hissy-fit.

Father grew tired of waiting for him to come closer and pulled him with the Force. As soon as he was within reach, Father caught him with his other arm and pulled him close and kissed him.

"I'm upset! You aren't telling me everything! He calls you 'Father'! He asked you to treat him like your baby! I'm your baby!" The temper tantrum was building, picking up speed and fury. I was waiting for the final destructive blast. Oddly enough, his eyes were still blue.

I nodded, trying again to divert a disaster. "I know, and I'm not trying to change that. I'm not trying to take him away from you, I just need some attention. You're okay with that, aren't you?"_ Please be okay with that._

"He can be your Daddy too, but-but- it's more than that! You think he _is_ your daddy!"

Father looked down at me and mouthed _he deserves the truth._ Then he started to explain to the child. "Luke, both of you, I have to tell you something. You especially," he turned to look at the little one. "You've learned about cloning, right?"

The boy started to suck his thumb. Then he nodded slowly.

"You are a clone."

The boy laughed, a nice, safe, comforting sound. Or it would have been, in any other situation.

"I'm not joking, Luke. You are a clone of your friend Cliegg, who is the real Luke Skywalker."

"That's silly!" He laughed again, but this one wasn't as sincere. "You're being silly!"

Father shook his head gently. "Sit down, Luke. I have to talk to you. I don't want you running away in the middle of the conversation."

He dropped to the floor with a quiet _thunk_.

"Look at your friend, Luke. He looks just like you."

The little one turned to study me.

"He's older. He's skinnier. He's got scars everywhere. I don't."

"Luke, you're deliberately not taking me seriously. You have the same colour of eyes, a similar hair colour, although yours will darken to the same shade as his later. You're both short," I glared at him for a moment, still rather sensitive about my height, even after all I'd been through. How strange. "Sorry, but it's true!"

"Why did you clone him an' take care of me? Why didn't you just take care of him so none of this happened?" It had the potential to be excellent logic. However, it seems that if our family is involved in something, logic runs away and hides.

"Are you saying you wish I hadn't cloned you?" Father asked, his voice cracking slightly. _He's afraid that he hasn't raised the little one right! After everything he's put me through!_

"No, I just wanna know why you did."

"It wasn't me. When a child is born in the Empire they are required to donate some stem cells for cloning experiments. My master found the ones from Luke and cloned him. The clone, that's you, grew up in his palace. At the time, the original Luke was growing up with his aunt and uncle on Tatooine.

"When Luke became entangled in the Alliance, and I found out about him, I became obsessed with finding him. I fought for almost a year to catch him so he could be my little son, so I could be a parent, but when I finally captured him; my master told me that I had to send him to prison.

"In return, my master brought me the clone. He wiped the clone's memory of living in a cloning tank, and replaced it with false memories of living with me. You both know what happened from there."

_Obsessed. He was obsessed with finding me. He wanted me to be his little son. One he could take care of. He wanted us to be a family all along._

I turned to the little one, just in time to see his face crumple. Maybe the boy did need to be held more than I did.

Father drew the boy into his arms, and this time I didn't feel any resentment at all. The boy needed to be held, and I knew it.

Don't worry, Luke. You're still my baby, just because you're the same genetically as-as, well, the other Luke, doesn't mean that you're not you. There's more than just genetics to who a person is. How you're raised, what you do… it all contributes! Epigenetically, you and… you know, are probably very different." He fumbled for a way to make the little one feel a bit better.

"What's that?" The little one asked. I was thankful he had done it for me.

"I've told you how different the clones could be, right?" Father asked gently. "Well, they were all clones of the same guy, and look how different they were from one another! I couldn't tell you of any two that were exactly alike. There were millions of them, there are only two of you, and I'm sure you'll be very different. Heck, I've met unrelated originals who were more alike than some of those clones." He smiled with the last.

The little one sniffled and snuggled against me and Father. "We don't hafta send him back to jail, do we?"

I was dreading the answer.

I was surprised when he looked down at me, and shook his head, "No, we don't." Then he gathered me in his arms, letting me cling to his neck, and started to carry me down so many flights of stairs that I lost count.

Finally we arrived in a small room with a large bed in it. Father rested me on the bed, and the little one struggled to pull himself onto the bed for a few moments before managing it. I smiled at him, and he hugged me. I was too tired to do much more than relax into the pillows. Father gave me a little smile and reached out to run his fingers through my hair again.

"I need to get Luke some food, okay? You stay here and keep each other company." He told the little one.

We both nodded. The little one wrapped his arms around me and lay back on the pillow beside me. Father smiled at us one more time before leaving to find me some food.

"You're gonna be okay, right?" the little one asked.

"I think so. Daddy's being really nice letting me stay. Otherwise I might not have been."_ I can call him Daddy now. The little one knows, and Father loves me, so now I can call him Daddy if I want to._

"Did you really think you were gonna die?" He asked, concerned.

"I would have died. It's definite." I didn't want to talk about it, though.

He shivered and changed the subject to something more comforting, "Both being Luke's gonna be confusing, isn't it?"

"Yes, it will be. I could stay Cliegg if you want." I offered.

"No, you're Luke too. Could I have a new name?" He asked, his eyes full of hope. Why he wanted a new name, I may never know, but I always have liked my name, and I did want to keep it.

"Sure, if you want to. What do you have in mind?"

"I dunno, do you have any ideas?" He shrugged absently.

"No, you asked if you could have a new one, I just assumed that meant you had one in mind. Why don't we ask Daddy?" I asked. Honestly, I just wanted to have a private conversation with my father and sleep.

He nodded.

"I don't feel well enough to talk much, okay, Luke?"

He snuggled against my chest and started to fall asleep. I put my nose in his hair and started to go to sleep as well.

I was almost asleep when Father returned.

"Luke? Are you still awake?" He asked gently, moving me to face him.

I nodded tiredly and he helped me sit up. As he helped me eat, I was taking in every detail of his face. I felt like I had finally been given permission to be his son and really and truly love him.

"We have a lot to talk about, Luke."

"I know."

"You're exhausted, aren't you?"

"Yes." I nodded and snuggled against him.

"Then it can wait until tomorrow."

"Thank you."

"Move over."

I did as I was told, and Father crawled into bed as well, snuggling against me. I didn't know how the little one would feel if he woke up and I was snuggling Father and not him, so I drew him close. Father put his arms around me from behind, and I started to fall asleep again. Soon, I drifted into oblivion.


	16. Chapter 16

I awoke when I felt my father starting to move out of bed.

"Father?"

"It's okay, Luke. Go back to sleep." He rubbed my shoulder gently.

"I'm awake now. I won't go back to sleep." I told him, letting go of the little one and sitting up.

"If you're sure." Father said kindly. "Would you like me to take the little one up to his bed? As I said yesterday, we have a lot to talk about."

"Yes, please. Can you get me some food too?"

"Of course." Father walked around the bed and gathered up the little one. The boy lay limp in his arms and he kissed the little forehead before starting up the stairs.

I lay back down on the bed and curled up. My galaxy had gone from constant pain yesterday, to gentle comfort and a loving family today. One of my hands slipped under the pillows, feeling the edges of the mattress. It was so luxurious that I couldn't help wondering what it was made of.

Suddenly I felt guilty. How could I be enjoying this when my aunt and uncle had been taken off who-knows-where to be tortured? I shivered.

"Luke? Are you all right?" Father had returned with my food.

I sat up again and wrapped my arms around my knees. "I'm afraid for my aunt and uncle."

Father placed the food on the bed in front of me and wrapped his arms around me. "I know, Luke. I'm already doing something about it."

"You are?" I straightened up and looked at him hopefully.

"Yes. I've given their location and the access codes to the Alliance. I asked them to bring your aunt and uncle here, and they agreed."

"Fantastic! Are you allowing them to free the rest of the prisoners too?"

"Of course. Why else would they do it? It needs to look as though it was just another rebel jail break."

"Great." I relaxed against him.

"It's going to be all right. I'm making sure that it's going to be all right." Father whispered into my hair, holding me tightly.

"I know." I said simply, snuggling closer to him.

"That's right. Don't be scared."

"What's going to happen to us now? What will the Emperor do?"

"I have no idea, Luke. As long as he can't prove anything, we may be able to have some kind of deal. I'm sure he suspects me, but we can only wait and see. I promise you, though, I won't send you back to the Empire."

"Thank you." I pressed closer against him, and he drew another blanket around me.

"How do you feel this morning?"

"Much better, thank you." I pulled out of his arms enough that I could take the food he'd brought. He supported me gently while I ate.

"Your aunt and uncle will be all right. I promise."

"I know. Thank you for doing all this for me."

"I'm your father. It's what I was supposed to be doing your entire life. I've just finally become mature enough to do that."

I didn't know how to respond to his self-deprecation, so I snuggled close to him again, putting down the food. "I love you, Father."

"I love you too."

"I don't like it when you're so harsh with yourself. As far as I'm concerned, the past is the past. You're being a great father now, and that's what matters."

Father smiled at me, "Thank you for feeling that way, Luke. I can't feel it myself, but thank you."

I wanted desperately for him to feel that way too, but I know you can't make someone feel something.

"You always have been the best son in the galaxy. You and your little brother, tied for that."

I smiled.

"I'll never let you go again."

"I know. And I won't leave you behind again."

Father didn't speak. He held me closer, rocking me slowly. I could feel all the things he was feeling, and it made me love him more every moment. He loved me, he wanted me protected, he just wanted to make everything perfect for me and my little brother. He was a fantastic father, no matter what he thought.

"Won't the little one be needing you, Father?"

"Yes. He will, but not immediately."

"Okay." I snuggled closer and started to nod off again.

Finally, Father rested me back on the bed, tucking me in again.

"So you won't fall back asleep, Luke?" He asked gently, teasing me a bit.

"At this point, it's hard for me to know what I'm going to do." I smiled tiredly at him.

He bent down and kissed my forehead. "Sleep well, Luke. Don't worry about anything, I'm taking care of it."

I yawned, "I know. Goodnight."


	17. Chapter 17

"Luke! Get up!"

I awoke to feel my father shaking me roughly, clearly rather panicked.

"Huh? What is it, Dad?" I asked, the title coming out totally naturally after the wonderful dream I'd been having. A dream of being a family.

"Your aunt and uncle. The Alliance got them out, and dropped them off here, but they're acting strange. Your aunt just seems sad, but your uncle keeps screaming at your brother what a failure he is! He's scared out of his wits, poor kid."

I crawled out of bed, and Father wrapped one of the blankets around my shoulders.

"Come on."

I nodded and leaned on him, still half asleep. He led me up the stairs to where Aunt Beru and Uncle Owen where lying on the floor. At least my aunt was lying quietly. My uncle was pulling at his chains, straining to get to the little one, like a chained dog. The language he was using made me flinch, and I've been spending time with Han for years!

The poor little one was standing at the doorway, staring in horror. In his hands was clutched a stuffed toy, which made him look very much as though he'd walked out of his room and down the stairs for breakfast, only to suddenly be enduring this language.

I decided that the first order of business was to get the poor kid out of there. Grabbing him under the arms, I passed him to Father.

"Why don't you take him back up to his room?" I asked. Father did as I'd suggested.

"Uncle Owen?" I asked hesitantly, when they were gone.

He glared wildly at me, "So there are two of you now, are there?" He then proceeded to let out a string of swearing that would have taken Han aback.

"Uncle Owen, please. What little kid deserves to hear that?" I asked desperately, hoping the Empire hadn't managed to squash all his parental instincts.

"You would've if I'd known how you were going to turn out." He snapped, but he stopped swearing. I took a deep breath to calm myself and moved onto my aunt for a moment.

"Aunt Beru? Are you all right?" I asked, taking her wrists in my hands and lifting her into a sitting position against the wall.

"You saved us, Luke. Thank you." She reached up and caressed my cheek gently.

"Not me. My dad did. He's still alive. Isn't that fantastic?" I asked her. I knew that she would need some help readjusting to reality outside of prison, and that was one thing she'd always heard a lot about from me. My father.

"That's wonderful." She smiled weakly.

"Great, just as long as it means you're not my problem anymore." My uncle growled. I ignored him.

"Are you hungry?" I asked, careful to direct the question at both of them, although I was fairly sure only my aunt would have any interest in answering.

"Yes."

"Just a moment. I'll get you something." I stood up and walked over to the food prep unit, quickly programing in their favourite meals. "It'll just take a second." I said, hopping up onto the counter to sit there, my legs swinging.

Aunt Beru smiled at me fondly, and my uncle glowered. It was odd seeing how differently prison had affected them. It was fairly clear what it had done to my uncle, it had made him mean. He was never like this before. Always strict, but never downright cruel. My aunt, on the other hand, was more confusing. She had tortured me on arrival, but now she seemed to care for me once again.

The unit dinged and I grabbed the meals, passing one to each of my guardians. Then I decided to go program it to make me something to eat and returned to it.

My uncle ate desperately, clearly sure that this was the only meal he'd get in a long time. My aunt miraculously maintained some semblance of dignity, eating more slowly, and making use of the cutlery.

As the prep unit worked on my meal, I realized that I'd forgotten to give them anything to drink. I poured them each a glass of water and walked over to them again, putting them down just as the prep unit dinged again. I ran back, grabbed my own meal and returned to my aunt. My uncle had calmed down a bit, seeming to have decided that anyone who would feed him wasn't all bad.

"How are you feeling?" I asked my aunt worriedly.

"I've been better. But it's been much better since we've been out of prison."

"I'm glad." I smiled at her. "Is there anything else I can do to help you?"

"You got a medkit in this house, boy?" Uncle Owen demanded.

"Yeah, sure." I nodded.

"Then treat your aunt's burns! She's obviously in agony!" He snarled.

I looked back at her. I didn't see her as a woman in agony, but maybe I just wasn't good at that kind of thing. Or maybe I was simply too used to being taken care of by her to process having our roles reversed.

"Oh, sorry. I'll be right back." Again I leapt to my feet and ran off to find something. I quickly scavenged through a medkit, Father had several, just in that one closet. I have yet to open a closet in this house that doesn't have at least one medkit. Soon enough, I found some burn salve and bandages. I returned to my aunt and uncle.

"Where're the burns?" I asked.

Aunt Beru rolled up her sleeves and winced in pain as the cloth brushed the wounds. I grabbed her hand. "No, don't do that. Is it all right with you if I cut the sleeves off?"

She nodded silently.

I grabbed a pair of scissors and started to cut away the fabric. "Tell me if I hurt you, okay?"

Another nod. My uncle had no criticism, so I assumed that I must be doing it correctly.

Finally the sleeve fell away and I stared at the burns. They were bad. I had no idea how to treat them.

"Father?" I called up the stairs.

There was the tramp of his boots down the hall and then the stairs. He raced into the room, clearly ready to see me pressed to the floor with my uncle holding a knife to my throat. When I turned back to my aunt to show my father the burns, she was gone. She was cowering behind my uncle, shaking.

"Aunt Beru?"

"Don't let him come any closer, Luke!" She squeaked, her voice an octave or so too high due to fear.

"Aunt Beru, it's just my dad. You said you knew him!"

"They're not the same anymore! They're never the same! He's just here to hurt me again!"

My uncle stared warily at Father, seeming not to mind that he was being used as a human shield.

I moved closer to them, taking my aunt's hand. "What's wrong, Auntie Beru? He's my dad, he won't hurt you."

"Luke, you don't know them! If they bring back people you know, they're only there to hurt you! You're the only exception to that rule! Don't trust anyone new, Luke. Let your uncle deal with them."

Now this was bizarre. She was clearly trying to protect me from my own father, who'd saved all three of us. "Look, we're here. We've been fed. No-one's hurting us. My dad is only here to help. Let him see your wounds."

"It's always like this! They always seem kind. Don't let him get close. If he can get close enough, he'll hurt you like you've never been hurt before. The cruelest are always the ones who we never thought would hurt us. That's why I was so afraid of you, little one. I was sure they'd changed you."

"Aunt Beru! He's our friend! He's not going to hurt us!" I stood up.

"Don't go to him, Luke! He's just tricking you! Trying to let you get attached to him!"

"He wouldn't do that!" I exclaimed. Then I walked up to my father and wrapped my arms around him, demonstrating.

My aunt let out a sob and I turned to her, deeply worried. From behind, Father put his arms around me again. For a moment, all of my aunt's talk made terrible sense, and I was afraid to be held by him, scared he would hurt me.

"Aunt Beru. What they've done to you is wrong. Look at me, okay? I'm not some twisted version of myself, and my father is really my father. He won't hurt any of us. Let him take a look at your wounds. He can make them better, I swear. Just give him a chance!"

She still looked very frightened, but she slowly held one of her burned arms out to my father. He picked up the salve and bandages and walked forward very slowly, careful not to make any sudden motions. Finally, he sat down and reached out for her arm. She let him, very hesitantly. I sat on her other side, holding her lower arm, where she wasn't burned.

Father tended to her quickly and quietly with the same cold professional demeanour I'd seen him use back the first time he got me out of prison, so long ago now. Then he let her arm go.

"Is that better, Beru?" He asked gently.

She looked at him, still terrified, and gave a tiny nod.

Father smiled. "Good." Then he stood up and left, clearly understanding that she still didn't trust him.

I spoke to them a while longer, finally managing to convince them to let Father take them to a hospital. It was clear that they needed both the mental, and the physical support.

By the time he got back, I'd gone back to bed for the night.


	18. Chapter 18

When I woke up the next morning, I found the little one snuggled under my arm, clutching desperately at his bear, even in his sleep. When I sat up, he jumped and held his bear over his head as though he intended to attack me with it.

"Hey! It's okay, Luke." I reached out to him, and he lowered his weapon.

Then he dove into my arms crying. "I-I h-had a n-nightmare! It was s-so bad!" He sobbed into my chest.

"You'll be all right. It was just a dream. You'll be okay. Even if it wasn't just a dream, I wouldn't let it hurt you. It's okay."

"It's not okay! He was hurtin' you an' Daddy! You can't let him! You CAN'T!"

"Palpatine?"

"Yeah. Don't let him hurt you, promise?"

"I promise. It's going to be okay. Daddy wouldn't let him hurt anyone."

He hiccupped weakly. "Yeah. Daddy'll keep everyone safe."

"That's right. Don't be scared. Daddy doesn't like it when you're scared."

He nodded again and sat back, away from me. "Right. I-I'm hungry."

"Much better," I smiled at him, "Why don't you go find some food for yourself?"

"Okay. Want anything?"

"I'm all right at the moment, thank you."

He nodded and hopped off the bed. I followed him more slowly. I was still weak from my imprisonment. He led me up to the table and ran to the kitchen. He found himself a granola bar and scrambled onto a chair while I sat and watched.

"You feelin' better?" He asked eagerly.

"Yes, I feel a lot better, thanks. Have you seen Dad this morning?"

"No." He shook his head, "I came for you as soon as I had my bad dream."

"All right, I guess he'll find us eventually."

"I wanna think of my new name now."

"Okay, go ahead." I offered.

"No, silly. You said we've gotta wait for Daddy!"

"Oh, yeah. Okay. What do you want to do in the meantime?"

"I think Daddy left us a note. It's up on the counter."

"Why didn't you get it?"

"I couldn't reach."

I stood up and fetched the note.

Kids,

I've been called away for a bit. Shouldn't take more than an hour. Be back as soon as possible. Hope you can amuse yourselves. See you soon.

I read it to the little one and he nodded quietly.

"Yeah, he has to do that sometimes. It's kinda fun, actually. It means I can do whatever I want to, 'cause he's not here to say no."

"All right then. What are we going to do?"

"I dunno yet. Are you doin' okay?"

"You already asked that, and I'm feeling just about the same now as I was then."

"Okay. Wanna go play outside?"

"We probably shouldn't let ourselves be that visible. Remember, I'm supposed to be in jail."

He looked extremely crestfallen, "Oh, yeah."

"We can spend our time inside. Why don't we play a few board games?"

He nodded slowly, "Okay. C'mon they're all up in my room."

I stood and followed him up the stairs to his space.

We sat on the floor playing various board games until Father returned.

"Luke?"

I heard him first, calling for us.

"We're up here!"

"Okay, I'll be right up!"

The little one looked around at the mess, "We should clean up a bit. Daddy doesn't really like it if I let my room be messy."

I shook my head, "No, we should make him join the game. Set up an extra player, will you? I've got to run down and talk to him privately."

The little one shrugged and set about making a player for Father. I stood and ran down the stairs.

Father was just sliding a pack off his shoulder, and he smiled at me when he saw me coming.

"How are you feeling, Luke?"

I smiled back, grabbing the pack, "Pretty good. Where do you want this?"

"I'll take that. You're too weak to carry anything just yet. Look at you, I can see your ribs, and that's not exactly a tight shirt."

"No, I'm fine. I need to do something to keep myself strong. Where do you need it?"

"Not a chance." Father shook his head. "Give that back, Luke."

I ignored him, deciding that he probably needed it up in his room.

"Luke. I don't need that taken anywhere. I put it here because this is where I need it to be."

I put it down. He immediately snatched it back up and slung it over his shoulder.

"Thank you. Now, how are you feeling?"

"I already told you, I'm okay." Normally I would be annoyed by his refusal to let me help, but I couldn't help being amused by how he'd tricked me into relinquishing the pack.

"That's good. What were you doing upstairs?"

"Playing board games." I followed him as he started off towards his room. "Would you like to join us for a game?"

He turned and blinked at me slowly. "Okay. I'm not much good at them. I've only played against your brother."

"Can you beat him?"

"We're pretty evenly matched."

"That's not so bad. He's pretty good at them."

"All right." He dumped the pack on his bed and led me back up to the little one.

"We also need to decide on a new name for him."

"So you decided it's him who has to change his name?"

"No, he wanted to. There's nothing about being forced to do anything involved."

Father rolled his eyes, "Kids."

"Hey, you called me a kid too."

"Well, you're weird, aren't you?" Father said, putting his arm around me and squeezing tightly.

I laughed and pulled away. "So are you!"

He grinned at me, "I never said I wasn't."

The little one poked his head out of his room. "Why're you takin' so long?"

"Daddy had something he had to put down. You got Daddy's spot set up?" I asked.

"Yeah." He ran down the hallway to be scooped up by Father.

We played for several hours while we decided on a name for the little one. We eventually decided on Ben, after Obi-Wan. Then he got a call from a friend, and Father had to taxi him over for a play date.

When Father returned, we played a couple more games before I started to fall asleep on his shoulder. He gathered me in his arms, then, and I was carried back down to the bomb shelter. He rested me on my bed and sat beside me, slowly caressing my cheek.

"Are you healing properly?" He asked finally.

"I think so. Thank you for saving me, Father."

"I love you, Luke."

"Dad?"

"Yes?"

"Palpatine didn't just let me go. And he knows that you'd bring me here. What have you done to keep him at bay?"

"I'm allowing him to torture me, Luke. But I'm all right, and I need you not to run off and try to "save" me. He promised not to hurt us if I allowed him to, so don't mess with a good thing, do you hear me?"

"It's not a good thing."

"I know." Father bent his head.

"Is Ben's friend going to bring him home?"

"Yes."

"Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?"

He nodded, pulling the covers back and crawling in beside me. I snuggled against his back and fell asleep listening to his soft snores.


	19. Chapter 19

When I awoke the next morning, Father was gone again. I was alone. I looked around my room, somehow expecting Ben to be with me, but he wasn't. Slowly, tenderly, I stood up, testing my weight. My limbs hurt from the sudden return to service.

When I was fairly sure I could balance, I stretched quickly. Then I mounted the stairs, heading to the kitchen to find something to eat. On the counter was another note in Father's tight printing.

_Luke, Ben's friend decided to let him stay overnight. I'll be picking Ben up on my way home. I can't be reached today, so try to stay out of trouble. If anything goes wrong, you can contact one of my men. You can stay home if you want to, but I've also arranged a visit to your aunt and uncle if you want to take advantage of it. On the second sheet is Vader's permission to see them._

_I've left you the codes to the locks in the house, a comlink and the keys to the blue landspeeder in the hanger. Oh, and money for lunch if you want to go out._

_I'll be back as soon as possible, Dad._

I read the note twice to make sure I hadn't missed anything overly important. Then I ate a quick breakfast of cereal and milk, showered quickly, dressed, and took the things from the counter.

I walked down to the hanger. It was magnificent, full of ships. I couldn't help noticing that the only new vehicles were Imperial regulation, presumably so Father could fly himself around. However, they couldn't have made up a tenth of the ships. Most were ancient junkers. Around several were small lakes of tools.

With some difficulty, I found a blue speeder that matched the keys I had been left and seemed to be mostly assembled. After discovering that Father had removed the ignition and replacing it, I flew off towards the hospital.

I landed in the parking lot and walked up to the reception area. I can't remember ever being in the reception area of a hospital. When I get hurt, it never fails to be enough to get me through the back door from the ambulance. Anyway, I walked up to the desk and showed them my father's note permitting me to meet them.

The woman looked at me doubtfully, but called for another nurse. The second nurse led me through a door into a ward for those who were just surviving off of whatever the Empire supplied. I was quite horrified by the conditions they were living in.

"Ah, just a moment. I think I recognised someone back there." I lied. In fact, I had seen a very small child who was clearly in a great deal of pain.

The nurse nodded and followed me slowly to the child. Kneeling beside her, I spoke.

"Hello."

She looked at me, taking in the Imperial uniform, which was all Father had been able to supply me with. She began shaking violently and started to crawl away from me backwards.

I reached out and took her hands gently.

"What's your name?"

She shook frantically, "Mommy always said I wasn't s'possed to talk to strangers."

"My name is Luke Skywalker," I told her. "I'm not going to hurt you. I want to know what's hurting you. Maybe I can help."

She shook her head, "Mommy an' Daddy haven't got the money."

"Maybe I do. Please, just tell me."

"I got bit by a big wamprat an' some of its teeth got stuck in my arm."

"Let me see."

She held out her arm. There were large puncture wounds in her arm, and I could just see teeth.

I turned to the nurse. "How much would a painkiller cost?"

"Five credits, but you don't expect to just be able to reach into her arm, do you?"

"Yeah, pretty much. Please, just get it."

"She's right, her family can't afford it."

"I can pay for it." I answered.

On her bed, the girl looked at me in awe. "Why'd you do that for me? I don't even know you."

The nurse had walked off, "I just don't like to see anyone hurt. Are you scared of me?"

"Yeah."

"You don't have to be. It's okay. I'll just give you a little needle and take the teeth out of your arm. Then you can either go home, or come with me to see my aunt and uncle."

The nurse had returned with the needle, "She can stay in her bed until you come back for her."

The little girl nodded slowly. "Yeah, I'll do that. Mommy an' Daddy have to work all the time. All day."

I nodded, feeling a wrenching in my stomach at the girl's poverty. I started to explain injections to her. "All right. I'm going to inject you now. It's going to pinch just a bit. Like this." I carefully took a little bit of her skin between my fingers and gave a small squeeze.

She nodded.

I took the needle from the nurse and pressed it against the girl's arm. "Turn the other way and it'll hurt less."

She looked away.

"Okay, I'm just going to pinch you again," I lied.

She nodded again, and I slipped the needle into her. I quickly emptied its contents into her and removed it. "There, all done."

"I thought you were just gonna pinch me!"

"I changed my mind. That wasn't so bad, was it?"

"I thought it felt funny for a pinch." The girl commented, looking at her arm. "I can't feel it."

"Good. You're ready. You might want to look away again. I'm going to pull the teeth out now, and it'll be kind of gross."

"I wanna watch!" she said suddenly.

I shrugged and closed my eyes. Taking one of the teeth in the Force, I pulled it out.

The girl gave a nervous laugh, "Hey, that_ is_ gross!"

"Don't say I didn't warn you." I took the next tooth and pulled it out too. Feeling one more, I took that too. When I opened my eyes, there was a little pile of the teeth beside her. She was looking at them in awe.

"Yick."

I picked one up. "Agreed. Do you want to keep one as a souvenir?"

"Sure, I'll keep them."

Then the nurse bundled past me, taking the teeth and putting them by the girl's bedside. She tucked the girl in and started binding her freshly bleeding wound.

I took her other hand, "What's your name?"

"Jenie."

"I'll see you soon, Jenie."

She nodded slowly and rested her head on the filthy pillow. I stroked the back of her hand one more time and followed the nurse off to see my aunt and uncle. We walked through several more wards, but none of them affected me quite as the little girl in the poverty ward.

My aunt and uncle had their own room. I walked in nervously, remembering that my uncle still seemed to hate me, and unsure if he had convinced my aunt that I was a murderous nutcase again. She reached out to me as I entered, though, so I assumed he hadn't.

"Hi, Aunt Beru. How are you feeling?" I asked, sitting down on the bed beside her. She took my hand in hers.

"We're doing better every day, Luke." She sat up and kissed my cheek. I helped her to stack pillows behind her head so she could remain upright to talk to me.

"Has anything interesting happened in the ward?" I asked.

"Of course not, Luke. How have you been doing?"

I smiled, "I'm doing well. Father and my brother and I have been playing some board games. And I've been sleeping a lot, of course."

"How are your wounds healing?" She asked, rolling up my sleeve. She nodded approvingly when she saw the well-developed scar tissue. "That looks fairly healthy."

"It feels much better too." I told her, not wanting her to feel guilty.

"I'm so glad to hear it. Would you tend to your uncle, please?"

"Okay." I didn't know why she wanted me to see to him, but I didn't question it. Instead, I walked to his side.

"Hi, Uncle Owen." I said.

He turned to face me, and I could see tears in his eyes. "Luke."

"I'm here."

"I know you are. I'm so sorry." He was crying.

I put my palm against his cheek and sat down on the bed beside him, "Hey, don't cry, okay? You're supposed to be the strong one, you've always been good at it. Come on, I need to know I can count on you not to cry."

He mopped away a few tears with one hand.

"That's much better already. I forgive you for what happened in prison, it wasn't your fault. It wasn't either of ours."

"Thank you, Luke. I love you."

"I love you too, Uncle Owen. Now I've got to get going. Would you like me to ask any of the nurses to get you anything?" I asked both of them.

Uncle Owen shook his head, and Aunt Beru politely turned me down.

I turned and left the room, heading back to Jenie. I was deeply shaken by seeing my uncle acting weak like that, and I wanted to take my mind off of it as soon as possible.

I found her bed again, and she scrambled off, taking my hand.

"Time to go home?" She asked.

"I guess. What time will your parents get back from work?"

"Mom gets home at 22 00, and Dad'll be home at midnight."

"Would you like to go out for lunch then?"

"Yeah!" She nodded eagerly.

I was able to walk her past the front desk, with the receptionist not even caring. In fact, she seemed glad to see one of the paupers go.

"What kind of food do you like?"

She shrugged, "Whatever."

I took her to one of the roadside cafes and we shared a meal. She talked about her parents a bit, and I soon knew that both of their wages were ridiculously low, and they had no hope of getting better jobs. I made a mental note to ask my father to change that.

When we were done, I flew her back to her home.

I watched her hop out of the speeder, "Can I have your contact information? Does one of your parents have a comm?"

She nodded vigorously, and I took down the information. Then I watched her skip inside before flying off back home.

When I arrived, Father was in the dining room working on the droid for the little one. Ben himself was sitting beside the project, playing with a few pieces.

"Hello." I said, walking in. Ben immediately hopped off the table, throwing himself around my legs.

Father stood up and came to give me a hug. As he embraced me, he whispered in my ear. _"Should I get Ben out of the way for a minute so I can put you to bed? You seem exhausted._"

"_I am,"_ I whispered back, "_Please do."_

Father affectionately waved the little one off to his room, taking me down to the bunker.

He tucked me into bed gently. I handed him the information Jenie had given me. "I went to visit my aunt and uncle today, right? And, uh, I got a bit distracted by a girl in the peasant's ward. I helped her heal, but she doesn't have much of a life ahead of her. She told me her parent's wages, and it won't be long before she's working too. She's just a little girl. Would you see if you can get her parents better jobs?"

Father nodded gently. "I will, I promise."

"Thank you." I relaxed on the bed, and Father tucked me in more tightly.

"It'll be all right, Luke."

I nodded again. "Goodnight, Father."

He kissed me and stood. "Goodnight."


End file.
